A Song of Elven Romance
by Keilantra Skyler Kay
Summary: Keilantra is a slave, Jerrold is a prince, and Dimitri is a beggar. What happens between them that changes their life so drastically and how does Keilantra's song take part in it?
1. The Sorrow and the Strife

1. The Sorrow and the Strife

_A solemn face emerged from the thick of the blue flowered vines hanging around the tower balcony doorway. She walked gracefully out into the sweet-scented open air as the icy wind played and dance in her shoulder-length blond hair, which streamed with the wind in natural curls. Her sparkling eyes gazed out thoughtfully into the horizon—the color of the sea on a cold winters' day—as the moon hung over the glistening snow and ice. She had a slim figure and was of normal height and stature and a graceful posture that rang out, "I am beautiful!" She was beautiful. There was never any doubt. _

_Upon her head sat a delicate crown of silver, engraved with beautiful tiny diamonds. Her royal name was Keilantra Skyler Jayden Adianca Dianna Kay. Her face turned skyward, towards the moon, towards the navy blanket, dotted with sparkling stars that covered the earth at night and towards the snowflakes that landed lightly on her fair-skinned face. She laid her slender fingers on the ice cold banister of the balcony, opened her perfectly sculpted lips and began to sing a song given by the name "A Song of Elven Romance."_

_The sorrow and the strife_

_I can't believe my life._

_You've hurt me like a knife,_

_But I'll pull through._

_You who I see again,_

_I cannot stand the pain._

_I'll be free from these chains._

_Leave me a clue._

_Fight by my lonely side._

_My secrets I must hide._

_You're my friend and I lied._

_What will you do?_

_You do make light from dark._

_Illuminate my heart._

_It only took a spark,_

_Now I'm consumed._

_This I don't expect._

_Now I have nothing left._

_Let's give up and forget._

_These things are new._

_The medallion and the sword_

_We'll work for you, my lord._

_Please say you've kept your word._

_Can I trust you?_

_I cannot make a sound._

_But I will stand my ground._

_You'll save me, I won't drown._

_Now I've found you._

_Do I look beautiful?_

_Please try to be truthful._

_I act like such a fool._

_You know it too._

_I know that you love me._

_With this thought I'm set free._

_Your love for me I see._

_I love you too._

_I don't want you to go._

_Without you it's so cold._

_My whole life I will throw,_

_Just to save you._

_Now that you have come here,_

_No danger will I fear._

_The time is coming near_

_I must leave you._

_Please give me one more chance._

_Yes, you may have this dance._

_I feel I'm in a trance._

_Our love is true._

_Her voice was smooth and beautiful and clear and rang out across the land. Wolves howled joyously at the sound of her voice; anything living stopped whatever they were doing just to listen. Her crystal blue eyes closed as her elven song came to an end. When she opened them again, they were not her own; they were almost transparent, like ice, and glazed with sorrow and strife._

_She reached out a slender hand and an icy mist emerged from her wrist, hiding her completely from sight. When the mist cleared, the princess was gone._

_Voices from the blizzard that began at her disappearance called out in loud, bone-chilling voices, "Keilantra! Keilantra!"_

"Keilantra!" A screeching voice broke Keilantra's daydreams as she knelt on the gleaming floor, having just finished scrubbing it thoroughly. "Keilantra!"

Keilantra wasn't a dazzling beauty with gorgeous blond hair and blue eyes, neither was she a princess. Her name wasn't even Keilantra Skyler Jayden Adianca Dianna Kay. It was simply Keilantra Skyler Kay. What was on the gleaming floor of the entrance of Crouch Manor was a slave. Her eyes were not blue, but were a dull dark brown and would be the shade of dark coffee, had there been such thing. Her eyes always showed what she felt and they now were filled with frustration, glowing with depression and weariness.

She was not of normal height, either. She was petite for her age of fifteen. Her tiny hands released the cloth she was using into the wooden bucket and she lifted herself to her tiny feet, covered with a pair of worn-out brown boots. The tips of her little ears were pointed, for she was half elf, but they were covered by her long dark hair, so that she would not be found out and killed. During that time, the humans hated the elves.

The reason for such hatred was simply because they were different. Skilled in weaponry and the likes they were, and humans were jealous of this. When one was found out, they were taken to Kloreth, where Endelia's prince lived, in order to have tests run on them—tests to see where they got their skill, their wisdom, their beauty. In Keilantra's case, beauty was rare. Beauty shone through her eyes, but only when she really felt like there was a chance. Over the years they were dulled and had become weary.

Her pale face had become covered in cuts—fresh ones and some only barely healed, and scabs that were rough and of which scratching could barely be withheld from their bearer. Around the malnourished child were clothes that smelled of cinders and burnt food. Her hair hung like a mat down her back and smelled of kitchen grease. Indeed, beauty was far from visible from this girl.

Her mother was of the name Elizabeth Yasmin Todd and was an adventurous woman of the land of Endelia. She had stumbled upon the Elven Tribe of Asa and fell in love with the tribe leader, Asa Kay, and had a daughter who they named Keilantra, making Keilantra the rightful princess. Keilantra was proud to be just that, too. Never had she had such joy and such enjoyment.

Then, one fateful day, when Keilantra was only eight years old, she was kidnapped, the tribe was plundered through and almost all were massacred. Keilantra was sold as a slave to Lady Brunhilde Crouch and her four spoiled daughters in the tiny village of Ceitha. No one—not one—had discovered her elven identity during the seven years that she slaved there.

The house that she lay in was large and fancily furnished. All had been neatly dusted earlier that morning so everything gleamed or looked perfect. Pillars kept the house standing, even though they were in the way. A spiraling staircase was at the end of the entrance, which was a large room, often used as a room to hold parties. That staircase led up to the living area, where the inhabitants of the house were tutored, where they slept, and where the library was. The doors on the side of the large entrance were _not _to be entered by anyone except the cook and, occasionally, other slaves who were to do business in there.

"Keilantra!" The voice screeched again. It was that of Lady Brunhilde Crouch's, who never usually woke up during the eighth hour of the morning, so there must've been a problem.

"Si, Señora!" Keilantra called out in a sweet, clear voice, struggling to hold back the husky "Leave my life alone!" that was on the tip of her tongue. Her first language, as an elf, was Spanish, yet she spoke English very fluently. "I am coming!"

She trotted up the spiraling staircase and opened her mistress' door to a luxurious bedroom, filled with all kinds of fancy furniture. The room was dark, for the curtains were closed, so the lady was barely visible. The lady lay, sitting up, in her beautiful double bed. Keilantra had seen the face only too many times and could paint a physical image in her mind. _A blonde-haired lady, with blue eyes, stood very tall, screeching at her to do the laundry, scrub the floors, wash the windows, feed and water her animals, and her voice droned on. _"You called for me, Señora Crouch?" Keilantra asked.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Next!" a commanding voice called, ringing through the palace. The guards drew up a half-naked elf, quivering with fear, in chains bound around his wrists. "What's your skill, oh, fat one?" King Darcy asked, his light brown eyes filled with despite.

"I have none," the man protested.

"Don't lie to the king!" the king stood up threateningly. The man began to withdraw. "What is your name?" The king patted down his very few locks of sandy brown hair.

"Peter."

"Most elves can sing very well. Sing for me!" the king walked toward him and began to circle him.

The elf began to sing, flat notes rising and falling, huskily and horribly.

"You lie! Sing for me! Do it right!" He threw a fist at Peter's face.

Peter began to sing again, with a shaking voice, but magnificent none the less. It sounded almost perfect. The king grinned.

"Father, please!" a voice came from the end of the grand hall. It was Prince Jerrold himself. He walked into the room, his grand purple robes flailing over his shoulders and dragging on the floor. His sandy brown locks looked brilliant and whiskers lightly covered his upper lip. His handsome face was sprinkled slightly with freckles. His light brown eyes looked gentle and filled with compassion. "Let him go."

Spread across his face was a look of intense fear and horror. He walked up to his father and leaned down so his father could whisper into his ear.

"Jerrold, you are forgetting that the elves are our enemies. To be so wise and skilled they must have some sort of witchery. Thus, I intend to find out what it is." His father turned to command the guard. "Cut out his throat. We will use it to run experiments on. We will see what makes these elves such good singers." He turned and sat back in his throne.

Jerrold nearly fell back in such terror as the elf was taken away, to the executioner. How could they do this? It was cruel.

"Next!" Jerrold retreated to his room as the king called out another half-naked elf. A young girl hesitatingly was pulled forward. "What is your name?"

"I am Alexia," she said. She looked toward the ground, trying to look as sorrowful as possible. Perhaps, the king might have pity on her if he saw she was beautiful. She was tall, and very thin. Thin pieces of cloth hid parts of her body and her auburn hair fell over her face, concealing her blue eyes. This only made the king more angry and jealous. Why weren't the women of Kloreth like that? Why weren't they as beautiful?

"What is your skill?"

"I make pottery."

"What have you made?"

"Dishes, teapots, teacups, sculptures, vases..."

"Stop! That's good enough. Remove her hands."

"No! ¡Por favor, no!" she shrieked. "Have mercy on me! ¡Me madre está enfermo y me padre es en guerra! ¡Un recuerdo para ellos de gloria! ¡Un sepulcro para ellos de honor!"

"Enough! Take her away!"

"No! The prophecy is coming! I can feel it!" Alexia yelled at him, struggling to pull free from the guards. "The princess will return! The wizard prophesied it! "Seven years she shall be gone, but after seven years she shall return, stronger, wiser, more beautiful, and more powerful!" She shall rule over all of Endelia, not just her elven tribe! She is coming!"

"Take her _away_!" She was dragged into the courtyard like the man before her to be tortured unto her death. It was a horrid and pitiful sight.

"Next!"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Jerrold slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. _How horrible!_ he thought. He closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening. It had been happening for seven years, but he always tried to pretend it was a dream, hoping that when he woke up, there would be peace.

The screaming of the young elf was heard through his window. He walked toward it and opened the curtains carefully to see the deeds of his father. In the courtyard, the young girl was being whipped and beaten hard. She had no hands; only wrists bleeding so vastly that one couldn't even tell they were wrists. She shrieked in such horror that it touched the young man's heart. How could this possibly happen?

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

If Keilantra had seen her through the shadows and darkness, she would've seen her mistress scowling, obviously upset. "I am not in the mood for your Spanish so early in the morning." She wrinkled up her large, freckled nose. "I've been disturbed out of my sleep by a horrid nightmare. I wish for you to call my little darlings into my room. Then run along to the market to fetch some fresh fruit for our buffet breakfast." Keilantra nodded, curtsied, left the room, and then shut the heavy oak door behind her, rolling her eyes.

When Lady Brunhilde was ever upset, only her four precious "darlings" could comfort her. So Keilantra walked down the grand, carpeted hallway to the first room, Jacqueline's. Jacqueline was the youngest of Lady Crouch's four daughters, being fifteen, but a few months older than Keilantra. When Keilantra entered the peach-themed room, Jacqueline was already sitting up in her bed, her lamp on, and reading a book, so Keilantra could easily see her whole face. She wore reading glasses currently, but behind that were simple green eyes and her shoulder-length, curly, sandy brown hair was tied up with a purple ribbon. Other than her utter clumsiness, she was a rather normal human.

She was rather anti-social though. Never had she been caught flirting with a boy or talking with the other young ladies of the village. The second oldest of the sisters quite disliked her, but kept to herself. The reason for this was that Jacqueline could cook, but never shared it with any of her sisters, or her mother, or her friends, or the servants.

"Good morning, Señorita Jacqueline," Keilantra said, coming in and opening the curtains. "Your madre is expecting you in her sleeping quarters."

"My what?" Jacqueline asked in her English accent, looking up from her book and taking off her glasses.

"Your mother," Keilantra smiled. She liked Jacqueline's simplicity; it never ceased to amuse her. More than that she liked her kindness, even though at times she could be grumpy.

"Oh, yes," Jacqueline smiled back. "Thank you, dear." She started to get out of her bed and Keilantra curtsied and left the room.

Unfortunately, not all the ladies' responses were as kind and calm as Jacqueline's. As Keilantra slowly opened the door to Genevieve's room, she whispered, "Señorita Genevieve! Señorita Genevieve! Are you awake or are you still sleeping?" The response was a loud snore that lasted for at least five seconds. Keilantra groaned quietly, for Genna was not one to be good-natured and merciful first thing in the morning. Keilantra never knew what could happen when she woke up this beauty, which smelled like a pig this early.

Genevieve would always gang up on one of the servants with the oldest of the sisters. She enjoyed getting her every wish through them. Every command she had simply to request and it would be done exactly where, when and how she ordered it. But, having fought with the eldest many times on what they want done and by whom, they decided it best to leave each other alone. As for Jacqueline and the second eldest, Genevieve didn't want anything to do with them.

Keilantra took a deep breath before entering the wonderfully decorated room, covered in pink: bright pink curtains, pretty pink patterns embroidered within the heavy duvet which was trimmed with frills, and much more pink furniture including a pink picture frame holding a small portrait of Endelia's prince, Prince Jerrold de Johnson-Smith.

Genevieve was quite a flirt towards any rich boy who she thought was handsome. The prince she had seen but once from a distance on a short visit through Ceitha, the tiny village along the coast of Endelia.

Keilantra lit a tiny flame on a candle so she could see the gorgeous face, snoring away. She was only a year older than Keilantra and her hair was bright blond and her eyes were like limpid pools of blue. In fact, she looked almost exactly like the girl Keilantra dreamed herself to look like. Keilantra withdrew a violin from within a very large pocket of her dirty apron and began to play beautifully, as she had learned for five years of her life, in order to wake Genna up in, hopefully, a good mood, for Genna was fond of violin music and commanded Keilantra to play almost every night.

Genna opened one blue eye, then the other before she groaned loudly and dramatically. Then she started to crawl out of bed to let her feet sink into the wool rug that lay over the hard wooden floor. "What do you want, Keilantra?" she asked, annoyed.

Keilantra shoved her violin back into her pocket, curtsied, and said politely, though also annoyed, "Your madre is expecting your presence in her room."

Genevieve glared at Keilantra and said, "If you cannot speak English properly, then perhaps we should sell you as a slave elsewhere."

"No! No, Señorita! I meant Lady," Keilantra stuttered as she knelt on the floor. "I will not do it again!" Her accent was still strong, though she knew English well. She knew that if she was sent away, she might be sent to a worse home, where they treated slaves with cruelty. She _could _speak English properly, but it had become a habit to use her Spanish words in her speech.

"Very well," Genna nodded. "I will have mercy." With that, she left the room, followed by Keilantra, who then, letting out a long sigh, proceeded to Gwenevere's room.

Gwenevere was easier to wake up than Genevieve, but harder than Jacqueline. Keilantra knocked softly on the door before hearing a groan say, "Come in!" in a muffled voice. Keilantra entered into a room—a large room—with the least amount of furniture.

Gwenevere would only do something that she was asked to do with the knowledge that she will get something delightful and pleasing to the tastes if she did.

"Mistress," Keilantra said, being careful to not speak Spanish. "Your Mother expects your presence in her room." Gwenevere looked very different compared to her other sisters. Her hair was sandy brown, like Jacqueline, but it was cut short—very short. Her eyes were a calm green and she was of normal height for an eighteen-year-old, but quite chubby. Her nose was as large as her mother's, if not larger.

When Keilantra told her of her mother's request, Gwenevere was silent. Keilantra poked her tongue at her, knowing she wouldn't notice. She always slept in during the morning. Keilantra knew exactly what to say for her to wake up. "I am to prepare a buffet breakfast for you in her bed." In hearing this, Gwenevere jumped out of bed, changed into her gown, washed up, and was out of the room in less than twenty seconds. Keilantra smirked and walked to the door of the next room, belonging to Gwendalyn, the eldest, at twenty years old.

Gwendalyn was the most radiant girl in the whole village. She had straight blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She was very tall and had a small nose. This was disproportional compared to her large lips, which her mother stated looked lovely and tempting. Gwenda was even more of a flirt than Genna was. After all, she was supposed to be married before she was fourteen, and she was now twenty!

Gwenda had the most money out of all her sisters. She never spent even a shilling. She kept it very safe. She wouldn't lose any of it on her life, or her mother's. Gwenda would be the hardest to wake up, for she was _always _grumpy in the morning and enjoyed commanding Keilantra around.

Keilantra made the door creak open slightly. Then she opened it a little more, then a little more, until it was completely open.

"Señorita," Keilantra whispered. An angry and frustrated groan met her single word as Gwenda sat straight up and whirled around to glare at Keilantra, but rather than glaring, her face had a surprised expression, as if mesmerized, as she gazed deep into Keilantra's glistening eyes. Keilantra at first looked frightened, and was about to fall back, but all was silent until Keilantra looked at the floor and Gwenda shook her head. Then she began to bark orders as usual.

"Open the curtains! Dust my dresser! Clean my room! Fetch my clothes! Help me out! Make my bed!" As if commanded by a spell, Keilantra straightened her back, looked up, and began to speedily obey the orders as she was commanded. Just for the fun of it, Gwendalyn added, "Mop the ceiling and polish my sewing needles!" Keilantra tried her best, but could not get on the ceiling in order to mop it, nor could she polish every single needle. Gwenda laughed as she stood in her same position, her arms crossed. "Stop, Keila. Stop before you hurt yourself!" Keilantra hated being called Keila, but she endured it, for she didn't complain, for fear she might be sent to a worse mistress. But if she _could _complain, she would have lots to complain about. In her head, she sympathized for herself and imagined herself having the guts to stand up and talk back to anyone in her household. "Now... state your business."

This was not the first time that someone had stopped to gaze into Keilantra's eyes. Keilantra didn't know the reason for this, because she never saw her eyes as beautiful or captivating—simply brown. It had happened even in her elven tribe. It had happened at the marketplace. Why?

Keilantra nodded and repeated her message again. "Your madre would like to have you in her bedroom for a buffet breakfast." Gwendalyn had, of course, finished school, so she knew few Spanish words.

"I will go," she said snootily before marching out of her room. Keilantra wiped the sweat, mixed with soot, from her forehead and left the room also. She began to swiftly step back down the spiraling staircase before stopping right outside the door to hang up her food-splattered, sooty apron and replace it with her muddy, outdoor one. Then she grabbed her black hooded cloak, torn so much that it looked more like a sack being placed over one's head, and ran out the large, finely-decorated double door to get a horse from the stable. As she marched that way, she braided her messy hair into a long braid, so that for a moment in time her ears were visible, then she slipped her hooded cloak over her back and head, so that only her glowing eyes could be seen, for the others were overcast by the hood's shadow.

Keilantra entered the dark, but sweet-scented stable and opened the door wide so that light could pour in. When she saw that Dusty, the gray mare, Blanco, the white stallion, and Meadow, the chestnut filly, weren't in their stalls, she felt disappointment flood through her. Her eyes showed only more frustration. The other servants must have been using them. The bay mare and painted stallion were _not _to be used for they belonged to the Lord and Lady Crouch. So Keilantra would have to walk the good half-hour's walk to the marketplace.

Keilantra picked up the basket leaning against the stable wall and left. She stepped lightly on the hard stone path, covered in tiny pebbles. The five ladies probably wouldn't get their breakfast until ten, and she would have to pay for the delay.

She picked up her pace. Maybe, if she got there early, she could get the fruit and leave so that she could reach home earlier. She started to jog. Then she started to run, often tripping over her dress. After a long while running, when she saw the marketplace in the distance, she only ran faster. It was an especially tiny marketplace, for Ceitha was a tiny village, but the supplies were many, and _some _of the shopkeepers were quite friendly.

Keilantra stopped for a breath and began to walk again. She was almost there. She did not know that in this place would be the beginning of an exciting and dangerous adventure, a quest for love, and a decision that would cost her the heartbreak of a lifetime.


	2. I Can't Believe My Life

2. I Can't Believe My Life

Keilantra walked through the marketplace, her face barely visible through her cloak. Her eyes glowed through the shadows that overcast her face. She stared at the ground almost the whole time she walked there, trying to conceal her face, because she was strongly ashamed of who she was. The soot that covered her face smudged horribly and the scratches that covered her body were just healing while certain ones were fresh and just beginning to itch and burn against her dirty skin.

Keilantra looked up slowly, her eyes showing what she felt inside, as always they did. They were showing her shame at being who she was, but at the same time her excitement at seeing the wonderful things that the market was so full of. She reached her tiny hand up to nibble on her nail as she made her way to the fruit stand, looking intently all around her.

The marketplace was very beautiful to Keilantra. The dust from the dirt road flew up into everyone's faces as carriages and horses went back and forth over it. A lady on the other side was haggling over the price for a mirror and a tiny boy, about six years old, was trying to steal away with a fruit. Small crowds of people nudged past Keilantra, completely ignoring her, and any other unimportant person there. A musician at the end of the street played a merry tune on his fiddle to earn money. The clinking of coins as well as the constant talk of the town's folk could be heard ever so clearly.

Keilantra had her mind set on one thing though: to get that fruit and bring it back. She finally spotted the fruit cart as well as the shop keeper right behind it. The shop keeper Keilantra knew quite well. She was a peasant in her thirty's about and had to sell the fruit her husband grew to make the money. The fruit was all fresh and this was the most reliable source Keilantra had ever been to, so she went there every time the Crouch household was in need of it.

Keilantra made her way to the wooden cart, but before she had gotten half way there, she was knocked violently to the dirt path by someone. She looked up to see a beggar boy, older than her, look deep into her eyes, as Gwendalyn had done earlier that morning. There was a silence that lasted a few seconds, except for the fact that the beggar was breathing very heavily. Keilantra blinked in surprise and he jumped up, muttered, "Sorry," and took off again, running the same direction that he had been going before.

No sooner had he left than a group of bakers, butchers, and more shop keepers ran after him, with wooden spoons, pitch forks, rolling pins, whatever they had. Keilantra stood up to brush the dust off her already horribly dirty dress and apron before she noticed that her basket was gone. It contained all her money in order to buy the fruit and was the main transportation of the fruit itself. _Thief! _she thought to herself. "iSeñor! Come back!" she yelled before taking off in the same direction he was going, following the group of shop keepers, until she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

The beggar had turned the corner and given the rest of them the slip. If Keilantra hadn't seen him at the last second, she would've run right past him too. She could get a better look at him now. He had dark, dark auburn hair that covered his bright green eyes. His mouth was large as he stuffed his stolen bread into it. He was quite tall and muscular, which figured after Keilantra had bore that bruised arm from the fall. Keilantra felt quite upset at him, but, her shyness overcoming her, she simply said quietly and politely, "May I please have my basket back?"

He looked at her blankly and then looked at the basket in his hand. "No," he said, his mouth stuffed with bread. He swallowed deeply before continuing. "This is my basket." Keilantra looked at him and sneered.

"I tell you again, I really need that basket." Her patience was draining quickly. To her eyes he was very simple, with his stitched-together rags that covered his body, but to her head he was horrible-looking and a scoundrel.

"I tell _you _again," he said back, looking more threatening. "This is my basket. Go get your own." He turned to leave, but Keilantra pulled her wooden bow from underneath her cloak on her back and aimed a wooden arrow at him threateningly. Her face was now almost completely visible, but her ears were always covered.

"Halt, Señor!" she rose her voice at him angrily. She had completely lost patience with him now. "In the few years of my life that I could be taught, my father taught me well. He was a very skilled marksman. I am following in his footsteps and I swear on his grave that if you do not release my basket at this moment, it will be your last." She breathed heavily as anger glared from her eyes. She wouldn't be brave enough to shoot him, but hopefully the beggar would think that she was.

"As you wish," he muttered, annoyed, his back still turned. He released the basket from his outreached hand. Keilantra stooped down to pick it up, but as she rose, the beggar snatched the bow from her hands and she looked up into a sneering face.

Keilantra reached up to try to snatch it back, but he was far taller than she. She struggled desperately to jump and grab hold, but couldn't. As she persisted, she began to cry and beg. "No! No, Señor! Please! Please, give it back! Por favor!" She was breathing heavily and staring up at him with a tear-stained face, blotchy now because of the soot it blended with.

The beggar began to grin. "So, you've come to confess?" he said cheekily. Keilantra silently dropped onto her knees, in hopes that he would simply drop the bow and continue on his run. All her hopes, all her memories, and all of her heart were in the hands of the beggar that stood threateningly before her. He leaned down to whisper into her ear, "Come tonight to my tent at eight o'clock, and you can have your bow back. It's the one right next to the blacksmith's." Keilantra readily nodded. "Promise?" Keilantra nodded her head vigorously. She would do anything to get it back.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Breakfast time at the palace was not exciting. King Darcy, Queen Linda, and Prince Jerrold sat at the beautifully carved oak table, eating quietly and properly. Hardly a sound was heard except for the occasional clinking of the silverware against the dishes.

Abruptly, Jerrold pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm finished," he announced.

"Son, sit down," the king persuaded his son to finally sit back down again. "Your mother and I need to talk to you."

"This isn't about me getting married again, is it?" he questioned.

"It is, and you better listen, if you know what's good for you," the king snapped. "I want you to marry a proper courtier. All the courtiers in Klorith shall be invited to the ball in a few months. I want you to choose your bride there, or I shall. Is that clear?"

"Yes, father. May I invite some of my own choice as well?"

"As long as they are rich, proper courtiers, yes, you may. I don't want you inviting any of the peasants like you did last time."

"Thank you," he rose again. "I'm finished." Then he marched to his bedroom again and threw himself on the bed.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

He began to walk away again before Keilantra stood up and stopped him. "Why do you want me to come anyway?" she questioned, an eyebrow raised, her eyes a mixture of confusion, anger, and relief.

"Believe me," he said with stern eyes. "It isn't your appearance." With the parting statement, he left her in a state of intense anger and hatred for him. As he turned to walk away, Keilantra poked out her tongue and rolled her brown eyes at him. How dare he say that she didn't look good? Of course, she didn't look good, but no one had ever confronted her with the fact before.

Keilantra once again made her way to the cart and bought the needed fruit from Mrs. Smith and, fearing she would be late, ran the rest of the way home, rarely stopping, even though she was breathing very heavily. She would have to make room to meet the beggar that night. She _had _to get her bow back.

Excitement and nervousness filled her up and a cold shivering feeling ran up her spine. She continued to run. She wouldn't stop for anything. A boot fell off her tiny, dirty foot, but she proceeded, limping on the stone path.

She finally burst through the door of the Crouch Manor and rushed straight into the kitchen with her basket, her dress managing to catch on both doors and cause slight rips.

"Terri!' she shrieked to the cook as she stumbled into the kitchen. "I need your help!" Terri looked at Keilantra in surprise with her old brown eyes before coughing.

"What is it, dear?" she said huskily, taking the basket out of Keilantra's arms. Her double chin was shaking with excitement and anticipation.

"Lady Crouch and her daughters have expected me to make them a buffet breakfast since the eighth hour!" At this Terri began to rush about the kitchen, collecting all sorts of things and putting them in pots, chopping the fruit into little bits, and doing lots of other kitchen jobs. Her frizzy gray hair she covered with a cooking hat and her gray dress, which she had made herself, she was constantly lifting up to her knees so that she wouldn't trip over. Her chubby legs carried her around the large kitchen and her layers of fat over her body bounced up and down as she hurried about.

Keilantra rushed around clumsily trying to help her. "Run out and fetch some almonds, dear." "Hurry up with those eggs, hun." "Dear, you have to stir in circles." "Don't overcook the meat, darling!" As the commands came into Keilantra's ears, they were carried out.

Finally the task was done. Keilantra put the six different dishes onto two large round trays and began to carefully take them up the staircase to Lady Crouch's room.

She opened the door carefully to see the five ladies, scattered all over the room, fast asleep. She lay the trays down on the table and gently woke each of them up and they tucked in, unaware of the time, to the fruit salad, boiled eggs, pixie legs, tiny cream cookies, two small roast hares, and custard-filled pies, made expertly by Terri, with some help by Terri's "little assistant" as Terri called her. Keilantra was glad to have Terri as a friend, otherwise she would've never have gotten this task done.

She began to slip out of the door, before they would be able to notice the time, and downstairs to do her normal chores. She rushed hurriedly outside to help Cindy with the animal care: feeding them, watering them, grooming them, and the likes. Then she rushed to her next chore and her next, darting from place to place throughout the rest of the day.

She once tripped over Penelope while she was carrying the laundry. She had to wash all the fancy heavy dresses all over again. "Sorry, Penny," she apologized quickly. "I'll re-wash them."

"You better, good-for-nothing little child!" she snapped, dropping the laundry on the floor for Keilantra to pick up. "And call me Aunty Penelope. It's more proper!" Keilantra scooped them up obediently and ran them out to the well again. That took up more time.

Then again she accidentally left Dusty's stall open, and had to chase her down and put her back. Dusty wasn't easy to catch. She pranced all over the yard. Keilantra had to get Jennifer's help to corner her and rope her. Then she gently placed her back in her pen. That took up at least forty-five minutes.

Then she spilt milk all over Lady Crouch's bed and had to scrub it out and put it back before she found out. The duvet began to drag on the floor as she carried it downstairs, almost pulling Keilantra down with its weight. It wasn't easy to scrub. The stain was almost not visible at all soon enough so she picked it up. Now she had to dry it. The drying took up more time than any of her little chores. It was such a heavy duvet that she had to place it on her bed again after an hour while it was still damp.

Nonetheless all the little mistakes, she finished earlier than she would have before, due to her determination and a little help from her fellow slaves and servants.

She had never done her work so fast before. She had her mind set to finish early so she could dash off to the beggar's tent. At around the nineteenth hour, Keilantra went to her sleeping quarters near the attic to prepare herself.

Then she began to fix herself up. Someone had intentionally insulted her, and she was angry. She had always known that she didn't look very pretty at all. But to have someone insult her about it was more than enough for her. She began to try to brush all the horrible tangles out of her hair, but it was in vain. She soon decided that it was at least better than before and braided it again. Then she struggled to wipe the soot off her face. Soon all that was left behind was her ugly scratches from odd jobs she did around the house. Those she couldn't wash out, so she had to just bear them.

She tried to wash the soot and mud off of her dress, but most of it was stained. She tried her best though, and she got a lot of it off. Then she washed her cloak and put it over her back and head again. She could hardly notice a difference except that most of the blackness was off of her skin. _So this is my life, _she thought to herself. _And to think, at this moment I could've been being spoiled. _But past was past and she needed to forget it and move on.


	3. You've Hurt Me Like a Knife

3. You've Hurt Me Like a Knife

Keilantra stepped down the creaking staircase in the dark. There was a musky stench about the air. Keilantra didn't like it. She took her coarse, rough cloak and covered her nose as she took each step carefully, trying to neither make a sound or trip over in the darkness. Her eyes were weary from a long day of hard work, but she had finished it and, relieved, she had to keep her promise. She certainly _did _lie a lot, but with something as important as her bow at risk, she had to go.

Every step she took caused a creak to go throughout the old house. First her toes, then her heels stepped on each step carefully, quietly, and slowly. She could feel it beneath her feet; if she wasn't careful she could wake someone up. The ladies had climbed into their cozy beds to sleep around the time the beggar requested Keilantra's presence. She was only desperately hoping that they were already asleep.

Keilantra finally reached out her foot to take another step, but rather it did not go down, but Keilantra felt the firmness of the gleaming floor of the entrance. She sighed before running quickly and quietly across it and began to slowly open the large door, letting moonlight flow in. It, also being old, creaked also as she shoved it open. The moonlit night was cold and damp, but she just _had _to go.

She gently stepped out and closed the door slowly behind her. She turned around and her face glowed brightly from the light of the moon. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide from fright. Her eyes shone as stars, only darker, with fear, hope, and anger. Her face was no longer black from the burnt soot it had so often been covered in, but was clean, besides her cuts that itched and stung on her face so horribly, despite the fact she struggled to resist the temptation to scratch them away.

She reached her dirty nails to her cloak and covered her face once more, so nothing but her mouth could be seen, as she stared at the hard, stony ground that she was to walk over. Her heart pounded against her chest as thoughts flowed through her mind. _What if Lady Crouch hears me and comes to get me? What if someone in the night kidnaps me? What if I am attacked by a wild animal? _Not one of her thoughts considered the chance that she would be absolutely fine.

She stepped out onto the path, feeling the crunch of the stones that covered it beneath her feet. She could feel them through her worn-out boots that were laced up past her ankle. She walked slowly for quite a few minutes more, until she was out of ear shot, and then she began to run, the hood that covered her head bobbing up and down, rocks flinging behind her. She had hoped that when she was away from the manor, her heart would stop pounding, and she wouldn't be afraid, but she couldn't help but feel even more fear.

She finally reached the marketplace. It looked different at night. Smells of baked bread, fresh meat, and burnt wood hung in the air. It felt musky all the same, for all fires were put out, and all shops were closed down. Keilantra felt a tingling feeling crawly up and down her spine and shivered, wrapping herself even more in the safety of her cloak.

The moon was still bright, but began to be slightly covered by the clouds that hid in the air at night. She remembered where the beggar had told her to go and followed the wooden signs that hung above the stores with her eyes until she spotted the blacksmith's sign, which she could barely see in the dark.

She took a deep breath before walking past it to go into the beggar's tent. She was surprised to see quite a large tent (large enough for at least five people to fit comfortably) with a small fire cackling right outside. Right beside it was a black horse that whickered at the sight of Keilantra. Keilantra began to step back, wondering if this could be the right place.

"Wait," a sleepy voice muttered from inside the tent. Then the beggars head emerged from it, looking dazzled and tired, and said, "I thought we agreed on eight." Keilantra nodded slowly and looked at the ground. The beggar could see that she was most certainly sorry. She didn't need to say anything. Sometimes her eyes could hold an entire conversation. He nodded back before saying again, "Come in." He backed into his tent. Keilantra walked around the fire, as far from the horse as possible, before entering after him.

It was a finely furnished place, for a tent at least, including a mat for which to sleep on, a fraction of a tree stump used as a table, a wooden chest filled with things Keilantra didn't know, and a lantern, glowing merrily, resting on the chest. The place looked like it hadn't been cleaned, nor moved for a while, as it smelled like dirt and spoiled food and looked like a faded shade of brown. The mat was wrinkled and lay messily in the corner of the tent. It was quite warm inside and Keilantra _almost _felt right at home, had it been that the beggar wasn't there.

"Take a seat," he gestured toward the tree stump, which was filled with all sorts of food stains and some fresh ones also. Keilantra reluctantly walked over to the stump, wiped off as much as she could, then she sat down upon it. She looked at him expectantly, but he did not say anything.

After a long silence Keilantra stood up, careful to keep her balance, and announced, "Why do you want me here? State your business so that I may be on my way!"

The beggar stood up threateningly beside her and Keilantra began to shrink, for she felt small and intimidated. "Who said I meant any business when I requested your presence? You aren't the first, wench. I meant for you to come to satisfy my need for company!"

Keilantra's courage came back to her and she yelled back at him, her eyes ablaze, "You have no right to call me wench, Señor! You have insulted me and do not trust me to stay here if you are to proceed in raising my temper!"

He stared down at her and laughed, his head back, his strong shoulder's heaving. It seemed to last forever. It was intimidating to Keilantra; not the kind of reaction she wanted him to have. The scoffing laugh seemed to play over again and again in her head. She could feel it in her bones, in her chest, it felt horrible and her cheeks burned bright red. "Is that all?" he finally stopped. "I would've thought it would be something important." He sat back down.

"Please," Keilantra glared at him with even more anger and hatred than that morning. "Just let me go home." She shook her head at him, not daring to sit down again, for she wanted to leave, and she was determined.

"No," he announced as simply as if he would've said, "Sit," or "Come." He didn't give a reason and Keilantra didn't talk back. She wanted to see why he needed her to stay so badly. He leapt off of the chest he was sitting on and opened the lid, the hinges creaking. Then he pulled out a clay dish in which sat a roast hare Keilantra wouldn't have dreamed of eating in her lifetime. Her eyes widened with joy and hope as she saw the dish be placed on the stump that was behind her. She licked her lips as the beggar turned to pull out some wooden cutlery from the chest before closing it with a dry click.

"What else is in there?" Keilantra questioned, in hopes that there might be more. She reached her dirty fingernails to her mouth again to bite them.

"Too much," he answered, sitting down on the floor by the stump. He beckoned her to sit down also and she sat down on the other side, pulling her dress up so that she could sit comfortably. "Now eat." He commanded, and Keilantra didn't hesitate. She tucked in ravenously, much to the beggar's enjoyment. He too began to eat, but spent the majority of his time watching Keilantra stuff her face. "The name's Dimitri," he told her. She nodded, but still proceeded in chewing every last scrap of meat off the bones. "I've been a beggar for ten years." Again, Keilantra nodded, not very interested. "I found myself on the streets when I was six." Keilantra nodded again. "I have a black mare named Rhonda." No matter how little or how much he told her about himself, she didn't care.

The hare was finished finally and all that was left on the dish were the bones which were completely clean. Keilantra smiled before muttering "Gracias." It took a lot for her to say that word to the one who she had so hated.

"No problem," he leaned back and began to question her. "So I've told you about myself, so why don't you tell me about yourself." He grinned something evil and she felt inclined to make up her whole history.

But she didn't. Keilantra simply skipped out on certain parts. She told him her name. She told him that she had been a slave all her life and her parents were peasants who were long dead. She told him that she slaved for a kind lady who gave Keilantra all the grace in the world and only made her work little jobs around the house.

"Such as cleaning the fireplace?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her, gesturing towards her soot stained dress. She hated his grin. It made her shudder and feel as if he hated her one moment and loved her the next moment.

Keilantra shrugged. "Maybe once, but not often." She stopped at that so she wouldn't be questioned further, and Dimitri went to his chest and pulled out five small white objects. He grabbed her hand and opened it before placing the little objects in it. Then he closed her hand again so that it was clenched over the objects. Then he leaned against the side of the tent.

"Do you know how to play?" he asked as if it were the simplest game in the world.

"How to play what?" Dimitri rolled his eyes and went next to her, taking the little objects back from her.

"They're called knucklebones," he announced. "And you play them like this." He began to toss one up in the air while picking others off the ground very quickly and skillfully. They clicked together every time he caught them. He was most certainly focusing on his game and Keilantra tried to do the same thing, but she looked up at his face, which was intent, stern, and playful at the same time. "Now you try." He put them in her hand again.

Keilantra tossed them up in the air before they all tumbled down to the floor on top of her, clumsily reaching her hands out to catch them, but missing all the same. She smiled sheepishly before trying again, with the same result. Dimitri again had to show her and she couldn't catch even one. He showed her something easier with two hands and still she missed them as they came on top of her.

"You are the most stubborn and clumsy girl I have ever met!" he finally gave up and thrust the knucklebones angrily into the chest.

"You are the most impatient and short-tempered boy I have ever met!" Keilantra snapped back and then mumbled under her breath, "And you haven't seen Jacqueline yet."

"You can't even catch a knucklebone!"

"They aren't human knucklebones are they?" she asked.

Dimitri laughed at the sudden change of subject. "Of course not!" he replied. "Killing a human is against the law of the prince. They are elf knucklebones."

Keilantra felt like yelling at him and losing her temper. But she decided he wasn't worth it. She kept her mouth shut. Elves were very defensive creatures, but she couldn't give herself away. Words were held at the roof of her mouth saying, "It's cruel, you short-tempered idiot! I am an elf! There is hardly a difference except elves are wiser! You dare to use such items that insult my race and tribe!" But she said nothing.

The silence lasted for a few moments. Then Dimitri finally stood up. "Do you like reading?"

"I love it."

"I have books." He walked over to his chest and leaned in. Keilantra strained her neck to get a peek into what was in the chest. But he had already pulled a box out and sat down again. It was fairly large. "Look." He opened it. It was filled with books of all kinds: fairy tales, romance stories, adventure stories, and more. There was at least ten. Keilantra's face was aglow with pleasure.

"Are they for me?"

"Idiot. Why do you think I got them out?"

Keilantra snatched them from his hands and began looking through them. It was so wonderful. It had taken her a couple of years just to save up for the few books that she had stored up in her quarters. Then she put them down and gave Dimitri a slight hug. "Thank you."

"Sure. What do you want to do?" Keilantra thought slowly. His mood was changing constantly, almost like he was bi-polar. She liked his good mood best, but he lost it quickly. She finally decided. "Can we sing something fun?"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Nearing the twenty-fourth hour, they had quiet thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They did certain things including quite a number of things ranging from drawing pictures in the sand outside to dancing around the fireplace to making shadows on the side of the tent with their hands. They now sat in the tent singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Keilantra smiled and sang with a hoarse voice, while Dimitri just threw his head back and let loose. Never before had Keilantra seen such a playful boy, whether beggar or prince.

Their song came to an end and Dimitri threw himself back on the floor of the tent, laughing uncontrollably. He suddenly straightened himself up and handed Keilantra a bottle. "Drink," he said. A regretful look crossed his face.

"What's wrong, Dimitri?"

"Nothing! Just drink!" Keilantra nodded quickly and began to drink. It tasted like wine, only fresher and sweeter, like syrup.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Elf sleeping syrup," he replied. "Sorry, Keilantra." Keilantra stared at him in horror. Then she collapsed, fast asleep. "I had to do it."

Dimitri slung her small body over his shoulder effortlessly and took her out of the tent just as a wagon began to be drawn down the silent street. Dimitri watched as it grew bigger and came closer. Finally, it stopped right outside his tent.

"Load her up!" a voice hissed from the front, where a caped figure sat.

"I've fulfilled my part of the deal; where's yours?" Dimitri threw Keilantra into the back of the wagon. A bag of coins was thrown into his hands.

"Fifty silver coins, as promised."

"Brilliant," Dimitri grinned, running his fingers through it. "Be on your way."

"Hiya!" a whip lashed out and the wagon started to move again. Dimitri stared after it and the small figure lying limply in the back.

"Bah! Get over it, Dimitri!" he told himself. He stepped into his tent again to get a good night's sleep. "Where's that cushion?" he began to rummage through his chest until he pulled something out. Something familiar. "Hm, she forgot her bow," he muttered to himself. He grinned slyly out the tent opening.

"Perhaps I should return it to her."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Bump!

Keilantra jerked awake as the wagon ran over something. Sold again. Seven years and no harm had come to her. She was almost kidnapped once. Almost sold twice. Almost killed thrice. Never had something truly dreadful like this happened before. Sleeping figures lay in the back of the wagon with her. Other servants and slaves, she figured. She looked out the back of the wagon. Sorrow, depression, anger, confusion. A mixture of expressions filled her eyes, hazy with tears to their brims.

Then she saw a figure. A strong, tall figure. A fast figure. A figure that began to gain on the wagon. It came closer. Yes, it was Dimitri, running after the wagon for all he was worth. Keilantra glared at him.

"Keilantra!" he whispered. "You forgot your bow." He opened the wagon and Keilantra tumbled onto the ground, the wagon still rolling. "Here," he handed it to her, smiling awkwardly.

Then the large clock sounded and Keilantra quickly realized how late it was getting. "I need to go," she said beginning to leave, but Dimitri ran out after her and grabbed her arm.

"Wait! Don't go yet!" he said. "I was enjoying myself with you! No one else has ever let me have this much fun!"

Keilantra stopped and turned to face him. "Your idea of fun is selling slaves to slave traders on the street?"

"No! It's my job! But it doesn't matter! I came back for you and I want you to stay!" he stammered.

"When I came to your tent... What did you mean when you said I wasn't the first?"

"Alright! I do force slaves, servants, beggars, and whatever else to come to my tent at night so I can sell them and make some money! But you are different! I actually enjoyed my time with you! I admit it, I am a thief and a slave trader as well as a beggar, but you are the only one I came back for!" His voice rose at Keilantra in frustration. She silently turned her back and began to walk away again. He didn't make her come to his tent that night because he saw something special in her. He forced her to come because he was greedy, selfish, a thief, and wanted money. Keilantra walked the same way she had come, her head hanging down, and pulled her hood forward more to cover her face. Dimitri wasn't following her anymore. "Do you know what?" he called to her. "I don't even care that you're leaving! You aren't my problem! Just because I saved you, it isn't like I'm in love with you or something!"

Keilantra didn't answer. She couldn't. She wouldn't. What would there be to answer? There was no reply. He hated her and she hated him. The enjoyment she had had only lasted for the brief time she was there. He said foul things. His mouth was a loaded cannon firing random things. He was a thief. Keilantra hung her head as she walked past the shops and signs that were in the way; she didn't notice them though. She had come as he had asked hadn't she? Now her bow was safe. Why was she still so upset? He's just a beggar.

How could he? He had no right to do that to her! He had no right to simply say that she was ugly and stubborn and clumsy and boring! She wasn't!

Was she?


	4. But I'll Pull Through

4.But I'll Pull Through

Keilantra walked to the end of the marketplace. She could see the path that led home. The moon lit it up. She looked up at the moon. It was still full and shining brightly. She could see though that it was half covered by clouds and if she didn't hurry, then perhaps the way would be lost.

The memory of the destruction of her tribe crossed her mind, as it had so often before. She remembered everything as clearly as if it were just the day before.

"_¡Yasmin! ¡Vamos!" Asa called to his wife. Fire was atop all the roof-tops of the village. Whole buildings came down on top of screaming elves. Humans ran through the place, killing elves quickly and painlessly. Her mother lay under a pile of rummage, stuck, struggling to get free._

"_Hola, Señora," a wicked voice cackled, standing right above Keilantra's mother. Her mother stared up in fear as the soldier drew out a sword._

"_¡No!" Keilantra ran up bravely to the man. Her hair was only shoulder-length at this point, and her young beauty was divine. Her little legs carried her to step in-between the soldier and her mother. She drew up her bow and aimed it threateningly at him. A pink crown settled on her head and her delicate, thin gown reached only her knees. She picked it out herself, as it was easy to run and play in. "¡Aqui! No se preocupe, madre_._"_

"'_Ello, princesa," he said, mockingly. "I shall oblige." He dropped his sword and grabbed Keilantra by her tiny waist. She screamed, pummeling him with her bow. He tossed her into a wagon and shut the door. Then Keilantra saw it._

_Behind him, another soldier drew his sword and stabbed her mother. She was gone. There was no chance that she could be left alive. Then the wagon began to move, leaving the sorrowful sight behind. Not until the tribe was out of sight did Keilantra dare to look away, her eyes filled with emotions she couldn't name. She began to cry, without stopping._

_She looked at her bow, her vision blurred due to the tears that filled her eyes. At least she had that left. It wasn't much. Wouldn't she much rather have her father himself rather than the bow he gave her?_

Keilantra began to cry again. But she shook it off. She continued walking. There was the way. She walked toward it.

Before she left, something grabbed her shoulder and pulled her aside. Panic flooded through her. So something _had _caught a hold of her, just as she had worried about before!

She looked up to see Dimitri's face, but she couldn't look. She looked down at the floor instead. She didn't want anything to do with him. "You swallowed me and then spat me out. You don't want me. So leave me alone," she jerked out of his touch. But he caught her and pulled her back again.

"I would like to apologize for my out-burst back there," he said. His voice was low and serious. The apology sounded in Keilantra's ears over and over again. Perhaps he wasn't so bad. To apologize to someone like her was not common. "The truth is I did enjoy myself. I enjoyed myself watching you enjoy yourself. Your laugh is happy. It isn't like the proper pompous ladies who laugh properly and daintily. It actually sounds like you are having a good time, not like the ladies who sound as though they are in horrid pain and watching something funny at the same time." Keilantra laughed before having the courage to look into his face.

"Muchos gracias," she nodded and began to walk away again.

"I want you to stay," he told her.

Keilantra turned around again. Who would want someone like her to be in their presence? She smiled before saying, "Si! I will stay with you!"

Dimitri ran to her and said, "I want to show you my favorite place to be." He began walking on the path to Keilantra's home. Keilantra, confused, followed. Why was it heading toward her home? Where was it anyway? If it was so great that it was his favorite place, why hadn't she seen it before? He continued leading her along the path in the moonlight until they were about half-way to the Crouch Manor.

Suddenly, Dimitri turned off the path and Keilantra could see that he was walking on a stony, hard path that was hard to walk on. Keilantra hesitated for a short moment before finally following him. He looked back at her and gripped her hand reassuringly before proceeding. He walked for some time up a hill until they reached the top. Then, Keilantra saw it. She saw a beautiful pasture with grass so green that it could be seen even in the dark of the night. The dew that covered the grass glistened. Not a fireplace, nor an attic, nor an already gleaming floor to shine was in sight. The area was surrounded by tall fir trees that blocked out anything that would see the pasture and claim it selfishly as one's own.

Keilantra smiled. It was more peaceful than anything she had seen. Dimitri continued to help her down the stony path until they reached the bottom of the hill again in which he ran across the pasture into the center and Keilantra followed after him. He lay on his back, looking at the moon and the few stars that were sprinkled across it. Keilantra lay down beside him. Nothing had ever held her gaze so long as the sight of the beautiful stars and the moon, almost completely covered by the dark clouds that crept across the sky.

"Why haven't I seen this place before?" she asked, more of herself than Dimitri, but Dimitri answered it.

"It follows an ugly path from a fork in the road. It is not common that one would want to travel on such a difficult road." He turned his head to smile at her. "But I think that you have to take risks for something you want. There is no easy way to get something. You have to work for it."

"But I thought you didn't work," Keilantra reminded him.

"I don't work for money," he replied. "But I do work for things that I care about. I take risks for the things that I want."

That made sense. Keilantra had never looked at things that way before. It wasn't as if a magical fairy was going to come and make it all better. A brave and strong hero wasn't going to come to her and save her from her slavery and carry her away to his magical palace. If she wanted freedom, she was going to have to get it herself. She would have to take the risk.

"Are you a singer?" he finally asked after a long silence. Keilantra _could _sing. All elves could. She liked to sing. She never thought of herself as a singer though. Keilantra took her time thinking about the question before she answered.

"No," she muttered.

"Try it," Dimitri insisted, sitting up straight.

"Try what?" Keilantra sat up next to him.

"Sing something—anything."

Keilantra nodded. She didn't know many songs. She knew a few that her mother had taught her as a child. Those had almost vanished from her memory though... She knew a few Elven songs in Spanish.

And she knew "A Song of Elven Romance." She had written that song from pure boredom in her daydreams. So she began to sing the first verse.

"The sorrow and the strife

I can't believe my life.

You've hurt me like a knife.

But I'll pull through."

Dimitri smiled and looked at her. "Why didn't you tell me before that you could sing?"

Keilantra looked at him, astonished. "Anyone can. I am not a singer."

Dimitri shook his head. "That was beautiful, girl." Keilantra smiled. No one had ever said anything she did was beautiful. She was completely flattered. She lay back down, sinking into the soft, green grass, looking at the moon and stars.

Keilantra continued to gaze up at the moon until it was almost not visible at all. Then she jumped up. She wasn't going to be able to find her way home if she continued to wait! "I have to go," she said again and began to run, without looking back. The clock struck the first hour as she ran up the stony path and back down onto the road that led to her home. Dimitri called for her to come back. He told her that he wanted her to stay longer. Keilantra took no heed. She could hear his footsteps behind her as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her to the manor.

Then all was silent. All was dark. The moon had disappeared from her sight as had she from Dimitri's. Dimitri had lost her. She needed to go back. She had no choice. Or did she?

Nevertheless, she proceeded in creeping back the way she came, finding her way by listening to the crunch of the rocks beneath her feet. She kept walking. Would she find her way there or wouldn't she? It was dark and even muskier than it had been before. Moonlight did not flood her pale face as it had before; there wasn't any moonlight at all. One couldn't even tell if she was there or not.

An eerie feeling crawled deep within her, waiting to break out in a scream. It was too quiet here. It was far too quiet for the middle of the night. There were supposed to be owls hooting and crickets chirping. There was nothing. She broke the silence with a little hum to keep her sinking spirits above the surface of fear. Creeping things began to grab her, to pull her under, to envelop her within the darkness of the night, to kill her. She hummed faster and with a more panicked voice. Perhaps if she had to take a risk that would cause this much fear within her, then it was better to stay in the position that she was.

Maybe being a slave wasn't so bad after all. Maybe cleaning and cooking and working day after day wouldn't be that difficult. If risks in order to get freedom from slavery were bigger than this scary walk through the darkness, perhaps she should just stay a slave. When she got back, perhaps she should be content at where she was.

But would she get back?

Why didn't she just forget the beggar boy and move on? Why didn't she just act like it never happened? She couldn't get him off her mind. If he were there, she wouldn't be scared. But he wasn't. And he wasn't going to be. So why bother worrying about him? It was enjoyable while it lasted, but now it was over and she would have to get on with her life.

What life was there to get on with? This wasn't a life. It wasn't even half of a life. It was a dreadful experience in the pits of hell that she had to put up with. What she didn't know was that it was about to get even worse.

What about what _he_ was thinking? What about Dimitri? Was he missing her or was he just trying to get her back for his own selfish purposes again? What a jerk. He probably _didn't _care for her.

Dimitri continued walking home. Why hadn't he listened to her footsteps and followed her? Why? Why? Why? Why hadn't he kept her with him when he had the chance? He had to admit she wasn't the most gorgeous girl he had met. But she sure was the gutsiest one. She actually listened to him and responded.

What about the blacksmith's daughter? She was seventeen, a year older than him. She wasn't that pretty either. Why was he so drawn to Keilantra and not to the blacksmith's daughter when neither of them looked like the princesses of the world—the average ones with the gorgeous blond hair and crystal blue eyes?

And how about Arielle, the servant? Her father had died, as had Keilantra's, and she had been forced to work in order to live anywhere. Why wasn't he so drawn to her rather? What did Keilantra have that they didn't? He tried to piece it together in his mind.

Well, Keilantra was neither pretty, nor talented. She hadn't been educated properly either. That wasn't helping to reason why he liked her. She was... What was she? What did she have? He couldn't think what it was.

He proceeded in walking. The warm glow of his fire he had left lit guided him back. Rhonda stood there, anxious, and at the sight of him began to whicker and shift from foot to foot. Dimitri grinned and walked toward her to stroke her muzzle gently. "At least I'll always have you, huh, girl?"

Keilantra didn't know how to get home or how to get back to the marketplace to ask Dimitri to help her. She was lost in the dark of the night. She continued on regardless. She stood for a while to look around her. Darkness. Nothing but darkness. Pitch black. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Then a sound came to her ear. A familiar sound. A sound of a horse snorting in its stable.

Blanco.

Blanco always woke up in the night. He was always hungry in the dead of night. The Crouch ladies had never heard him, for they were always fast asleep within fancy duvets trimmed with frills that smothered them completely from one's view. But Keilantra occasionally heard him as she sat in her room at night, with a little candle, daydreaming about being royal, being dazzling, being Keilantra Skyler Jayden Adianca Dianna Kay.

She walked toward the sound, until she could feel the stable, and entered. There was always a spare lantern in here. She picked it up from the corner and lit it so that she could see. The warm glow was so comforting. Never before had she looked at the lantern as her life saver. But that's what it was. She patted Blanco affectionately and gave him a little bit of feed before leaving and, by the light of her lantern, finding her way to the door of the mansion.

What excitement she had had that day! What adventure she had thoroughly enjoyed! Now it was over. It was all gone. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for her.

But it continued. It continued for the next few days and then weeks and then months. It certainly was the beginning of an exciting and dangerous adventure.

So where does the quest for love come in? When will Keilantra make the decision that will cause her the heartbreak of a lifetime? Patience. All in good time the plots will unfold. All in good time Keilantra will certainly find love.

After all, doesn't it happen in almost every fairy tale?


	5. You I See Again

5. You I See Again

Sleep crept up very slowly on Keilantra. It crept so slowly that Keilantra thought it wouldn't come at all. But it did, and when it did, it caught her so suddenly and held her so mercilessly throughout the night. It wouldn't let go until a creature much more vicious scared it away.

"Wake _up_!" Gwenevere screeched, tossing a bucket of cold water all over Keilantra's body. Keilantra arose instantly, shivering. "You were supposed to bring my breakfast two hours ago!"

"Lo siento," Keilantra mumbled, grabbing her mat and wrapping it around herself.

"I don't care what that means; just get down there and finish the rest of your chores! Jonathan already brought my breakfast when he saw you were still asleep!"

"Just give me five minutes," Keilantra fell back on the hard wood floor.

"No! I want them done _now!_"

Keilantra sat straight up, glaring at Gwenevere. Her penetrating gaze seemed to hold her captive, seeing as Gwen stared straight into them, refusing to look anywhere else. "Five minutes," Keilantra snapped through barred teeth. Then she lay down again.

Gwenevere looked away as soon as the connection between their eyes was broken. She shrilled hearing Keilantra say that. Quickly, she huffed and stomped off, most presumably to tell her mother.

Keilantra rose and straightened her dress. Grumpy, she grabbed a broom and marched downstairs, taking two steps at a time. What was the big deal? It wasn't that late, was it? Keilantra emerged, looking at the windows that were near the top of the house. They were such a pain to clean. She only cleaned them once a week. But she couldn't remember the last time she cleaned them. She would have to do them today. Then she suddenly felt her body fly into the air as she missed a step and fell to the hard floor of the Crouch Manor entrance.

Laurence, the butler, leaned down to help her up and whisper in her ear, "Lady Brunhilde is very upset. Why did you rise late?"

"What time is it?"

"It is 11:30."

Keilantra's eyes widened. She really _had _slept late! She would've been completely horrified if she had been completely awake. "Gracias! I need to go!" Then Keilantra ran to the kitchen and peered in. She was very hungry. Once Terri turned her back to chop the onions, Keilantra rushed in and grabbed a loaf of bread and a flask of water.

Leaving, Keilantra could hear from in the kitchen, "That's strange. I was sure I had seven loaves." The bread and flask were quickly stuffed into her large apron pockets and she grabbed her broom again and rushed about the entrance, sweeping hurriedly.

"It's already been done," Jennifer declared, tossing her auburn hair behind her shoulders.

"Does Señora know?" Keilantra asked.

"No. She was only up half an hour ago." Jennifer replied

"Then I shall do it." And Keilantra proceeded.

"Very well," Jennifer turned and began to walk away, looking back at Keilantra strangely with her odd green eyes. Keilantra thought they looked similar to cat eyes, so she never looked directly at them. Scary. She didn't look up until Jennifer looked away, her tall, thin figure walking gently.

"I wish I could be servant rather than slave," Keilantra told herself. "Then I could quit this job and find another."

She proceeded with her sweeping, brushing this way and that, not caring where she did it, for it was already done. Soon a knock was heard from the door. Keilantra went to open it, only to find Dimitri there, smiling sheepishly. Keilantra's look was first that of surprise. She was staring straight at him for at least thirty seconds.

"Keila, who is it?" Gwendalyn called from upstairs.

"Slave business," Keilantra finally called back. She stepped out, her eyes fixed on Dimitri. She smiled slightly, cheekily. She shut the door behind her. Then she switched to utter rage. "Why did you make me stay late with you, Señor?! Why?!"

"Don't get so angry," he began.

"Don't tell me not to get so angry! I don't know what I shall do when my mistress finds out and..."

"I thought you said your mistress is kind and merciful," Dimitri interrupted

"She's not. And she never shall be. I would rather take on a full-grown dragon than have her find out I did something wrong," Keilantra replied.

"Really?"

"No. But I like to put it that way. It just shows that she can be quite cruel at times."

"Come. I want you to go for a ride with me on Rhonda." Dimitri pointed toward his horse, which was just outside the manor's gates.

"I'm in deep trouble and you only care for a ride on your horse?! How did you find me?!" Keilantra yelled.

"The peasants and storekeepers know your description. They directed me to the place," Dimitri replied calmly.

"Just... just leave!" Keilantra threatened.

"Why?" Dimitri rose an eyebrow.

"Because I want you to!"

"Come," he grabbed her arms and began to pull her with him.

"Do I look like I am joking?" she pulled away from him and began to run, but he was faster and caught her.

"No. Do I?"

"By the absurdness of your idea, yes."

He laughed at that. "Come," he said again. He began to pull her again.

"Release me!" Keilantra kept trying to pull away from him, but his grip was stronger this time. "Let me go!"

"Keilantra, come here," Gwenda smirked from the door way where she stood. She had been watching them.

"See what you've done," Keilantra quickly jerked her arms from his grip and walked toward Gwenda, head cast downward.

"Go inside and wait for me," Gwenda commanded again.

"Si."

Gwenda came out and stood before Dimitri. "What is your name, sir, and what is your business at the Crouch Manor?"

Dimitri stared at her excellently cared for hair and her fancy green dress with at least a hundred petticoats underneath. He cleared his throat and smiled. "I have come on behalf of Prince... erm... Jerrold. And I have come to give a message to someone called... What's your name?"

"Gwendalyn Anita Belle Crouch."

"Yes, you."

"Behalf of the prince?" she grinned. "Must be pretty important then." She turned toward the Manor and called loudly, "Gwenevere! Genevieve! Jacqueline! Come! Someone has come on behalf of the prince!"

A blonde head popped out of a window. "On behalf of the prince!" she shrieked. Excited whispers were heard inside the room and, in an instant, rumbling noise were heard as the three struggled to make themselves perfect and run to the door at the same time. They brushed past Keilantra as she was walking to her quarters and knocked her down to the floor. Keilantra groaned angrily as she rose. How dare they? What was so important? She began to walk slowly to the door to see why they were excited.

Then the three of them, one after another, emerged through the door in fashionable gowns and kept their chins up in the air. They lined up beside Gwendalyn and faced Dimitri.

"You?" Genevieve looked astonished. "On behalf of the prince? Why are you dressed so?" she gestured toward his stained and torn clothing.

Dimitri chuckled nervously. "Yeah, that. Well, I have had a very hard journey; ogres ate my horses that were pulling my carriage and pixies put a curse on my henchmen. And during that time, my nice clothes became dirty and not wearable so I had to borrow from a common peasant. Much more has come upon me, but I finally made it here and I am ready to give the message."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Jacqueline shrieked. "You must come inside and eat, then give your message. If you must, you may stay for a few days."

"Really?" Dimitri smiled. "I can't stay that long, but a nice meal would be lovely, thanks."

"Terri can cook it," Gwenevere demanded. "And she shall make enough for me to have too."

"Come," Genevieve smiled, taking his hand. "You must eat and give your message."

"Then I shall," and he followed them into the house.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Jerrold didn't look the same, dressed in common clothing. He looked just like one of _them_. No one recognized him as he walked through one of the many marketplaces of Klorith. He stared guiltily at the ground, knowing he should be at home, helping father decide the fate of the elves constantly being brought in.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

He walked properly through the marketplace, watching everything. He saw how the peasants walked and he tried to walk like them: back slouched, straight face, arms swinging, and legs falling clumsily on the ground where he walked. He did it so atrociously that few of the people thought he was mad. But he tried.

He didn't know why he was here. Maybe he could invite the peasants, though his father told him not to. His father couldn't punish him in front of everyone at the ball, and he certainly couldn't punish him when he was married. So why bother not to invite them?

He had made up his mind. As long as his father didn't find out _before _the ball, he could get away with it. He decided he would take the invitations to them the following morning.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Keilantra stared open-eyed in horror as the four spoiled wenches dragged in a beggar as though he were a king. They took him straight into their fine dining hall and sat him down. As soon as they left and shut the door, Keilantra's anger erupted and she yelled out in frustration right there, tugging at her dark hair.

Then Dimitri poked his head out the door. "Darling, could you fetch Terri for us? There's a dear." Then he went back in, grinning to himself.

"Idiot." But she obeyed.

Once Terri had been informed, she quickly said, "Yes, hun, I'll be right there." She began to dry the dishes.

"Could you hurry?"

"Patience." She dried one. Then two. Then three. Then four.

"You better go now," Keilantra said again. Terri reached for a fifth. "They have an impatient guest."

"You could've told me that before, Keilantra," she snapped, leaving the kitchen. Keilantra heaved a long sigh, following her out.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"So, Sir..." Gwendalyn began.

"William... William... Robinson."

"Oh? William William Robinson?"

"Yes. That is my name."

"What did you come to tell us?" Jacqueline asked.

"I must eat first. I am starving."

"Very well."

Terri finally entered the room, rubbing her greasy hands on her apron. "The young miss said you called," she said.

"We did," Dimitri answered for the young women. "I have come from a long journey and would like something to eat please."

"I'll get it ready," and she walked toward the door, ready to leave. But as she opened it, she spotted Keilantra, leaning on it with her ear. "Darling, no need to be eavesdropping now."

Keilantra jumped back, automatically covering her pointed ears to protect her identity. "I wasn't!" she snapped. Terri just shook her head and went into the kitchen. Then Keilantra sat down bottom stair of the staircase. She knew her punishment from Gwenda was coming, and it would be a merciless one.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

It took quite a long time for Terri to cook up all the food, and in that time, Dimitri got to know the girls almost better than Keilantra did. For example, Genna was not happy with her teeth, Gwenevere had a secret boyfriend, Jacqueline loved to dance, and Gwenda wished she had her own home. Even Keilantra didn't know those facts.

But finally, Terri brought a few trays of food in, followed by Keilantra, who brought a few more in. They were both set on the table neatly. Then Terri curtsied and left the room. Keilantra stood there stupidly, before finally sweeping a clumsy curtsy, her left knee cracking, and beginning to leave the room.

"Wait!" Gwenevere called. "You must be our waitress."

"Why can't Jennifer be your waitress?" Keilantra growled.

"Because I want you to be!"

Dimitri smiled. "I second that, darling." Keilantra gave him a look of pure venom, unnoticeably, of course. Then she walked over to the table and began to quietly serve each one their helping of food. Dimitri was unaccustomed to holding wine glasses and, the second Keilantra put it in his hand, he snapped it neatly in two with his firm grip, staining Keilantra's apron even more.

"You clumsy..." Keilantra held her anger. "I'll get you a fresh one, sir." She took the broken one from his hands.

"Thank you, dear."

Keilantra placed a fresh one in his hands, which he had a hard time holding also. Looks of confusion crossed the girls' faces. If he were as important as he claimed to be, wouldn't he have at least learned how to properly hold a wine glass?

Then Keilantra served him boiled quail eggs with a nice silver spoon. Not even half of them went into his mouth. Most of them fell on the floor. This he commanded Keilantra to tidy up, which she did irritatingly.

Many more clumsy errors were made during their meal, Keilantra being the one at the end of them. She tidied up all of his little messes always with something on her lips to complain silently about. The meal was soon over and all the ladies were anxious to hear his news.

Dimitri stood up. "I must be on my way."

"You haven't told us the news!" Genna stood up and rushed forward to hold his arm.

"Oh, yes, that. Erm..." he thought carefully. "The news was for the girl called Genevieve the Prince told me."

"But you said it was for me!" Gwenda whined.

"I got confused. Your names all sound alike." Gwenda stuck her lower lip out in an absurd pout.

"Tell me! Tell me!" Genevieve begged. "I am dying to know!"

"Ok!" He leaned down close as if he were to whisper into her ear. But he didn't. He planted a kiss on her lips and ran out of the dining room and out of the manor, laughing wildly to himself.

"The prince sent me a kiss!" Genevieve shrieked excitedly.

Keilantra rolled her eyes. "No! He's a beggar! He wants you to think he is an important messenger from the prince! You are so gullible!"

The four glared at the girl. Then Gwenda remembered: Keilantra hadn't been punished for getting too intimately close with someone of a higher rank than she. She would have to fix that.

"Keila!" Gwenda snapped, standing up and wiping her mouth on a fine cloth. "Clean up the dining room then come meet me in the courtyard!"

"Si," Keilantra said apologetically and began to tidy up the dining room as the four girls filed out of the dining room.

What was she going to do? That idiot had humiliated her after he had fooled her into enjoying herself last night. Now she was to be punished cruelly. How was she going to get out of it quietly? Maybe she could hide until the incident was forgotten...


	6. I Can't Stand the Pain

5. I Can't Stand the Pain

Keilantra walked slowly out the door. The more time she took getting there, the longer she could delay her punishment. There, in the courtyard, were Gwendalyn, the cruel wretch, and Lady Brunhilde, who just a few moments ago heard of Keilantra's behavior. She took each step carefully until she finally reached Gwenda, who was growing impatient. She looked up to see Jacqueline wincing from her bedroom window. Gwenevere and Genevieve weren't seen. Gwenevere was in the kitchen commanding Terri to make her a white cake and Genevieve's whereabouts were unknown.

"You could've gone a bit faster," Gwenda nagged, grabbing Keilantra's arm and pulling her completely to the middle of the courtyard. "I've been waiting on you for ages! Now, let's get this over with. Look, here comes Genna now with the whip."

Sure enough, Genna was having a hard time lifting her voluminous petticoats up with one hand and holding the leather whip in the other. "Here I am, Gwenda! I'm coming! Don't start without me!" She arrived and placed the whip in Gwenda's hand, glaring intently at Keilantra. Keilantra had never looked so scared in all her life as a slave.

"Keila, you know we hate to do it, but we must if you are to learn your place," Gwenda began. "Now, this is for coming home late last night." She struck the whip cruelly down on Keilantra's back. Keilantra winced, but didn't flinch other than that. Then Genna wanted a turn, so Gwenda handed her the whip and she struck down even harder. A squeak of pain emerged from Keilantra's lips, but she wouldn't give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Keila, this is for waking up late this morning and talking rudely to your authorities," Gwenda said again and struck down even harder. The pain was growing more and more unbearable as the whip lashed out. When Genna took her turn, Keilantra actually yelled out in pain. "And this is for getting too intimately close, especially with someone of a higher rank than you. That is definitely a rule around here, little miss." And Gwenda struck out again, cutting into Keilantra's skin. Keilantra yelled louder. The pain burned so horridly. She didn't want them to have that sort of satisfaction, but she couldn't help the pain.

She struck out again, and more painfully. Keilantra was on her knees. Then again. The leather burned against her back and cut into her skin. She lashed out a great number of times, each time, Keilantra yelling louder and louder with the pain. Gwenda only stopped to hand it over to Genna, who was even stronger. She whipped Keilantra into the back, not stopping her tormenting until Keilantra finally collapsed, exhausted, on the hard, prickly grass of the courtyard, crying and whimpering, feeling sorry for herself.

"Now get up!" Lady Brunhilde kicked her shoulder. That was what did it. That finished off the torturing punishment. Keilantra winced, but had not enough strength to cry out. She lifted her weak body with her arms, trembling, and spat the dirt and grass out that had traveled into her mouth as she expressed her pain. Then she stood up, but fell on her knees again. She lifted herself up again and each step sent throbbing muscle pains through her body.

The three ladies grew impatient and walked on ahead of her, into the manor, leaving her to struggle to get inside. Never before had she been punished so cruelly, so horribly, so tormenting. She took each step with great difficulty. Her back ached and burned with the cuts and sores that covered them from the whip. Aching muscles from her legs sent more pains up her spine. She took small steps across the courtyard, until she finally arrived at the door, and had to lean on the handle with all her might in order to open it. There she saw the servants all bustling about hurriedly, some with sarcastic faces and some with sympathetic.

Nonetheless, Keilantra ignored every one of them. By the time she got to the staircase, her whole body felt aching and she knew she would have an even more difficult time making it upstairs to get to her quarters. She practically had to crawl up the stairs. Her whole body felt almost paralyzed. She couldn't move her neck. Her shoulders felt sore. The rest of her body felt as stiff as rocks. She made it to the top and stopped, collapsing onto the carpeted hallway for a short rest.

Then Jacqueline walked by. She wanted to help Keilantra, but she had been taught that proper ladies do not associate with lower rankings. So she smirked and walked fashionably down the staircase that Keilantra had just strained up.

Keilantra took a deep breath and stood up again, ready to make the last few feet into her quarters. She stiffly climbed the ladder that led up into the roof and crawled her way to her mat, collapsing on it, sighing with relief. She lifted it up over her to keep her warm as the cold wind blew in through the hole in the roof. Her whole body ached, but it was relaxing to rest it.

She didn't know how long she lay there. She was lying for quite a long time, because soon she had to be woken up by Terri.

"Hun, wake up," Terri shook her shoulder ever so lightly. "I saw the whole thing."

Keilantra groaned weakly.

"Does it hurt that bad?" Keilantra could only nod, her eyes still closed. Terri shook her head. "Those ladies need to learn not to abuse their power of authority." She took the mat off of Keilantra and Keilantra shivered all over from her toes to her head. Then she gently pushed Keilantra onto her stomach and opened the back of her dress to see angry red welts and cuts across her back, covered in blood. "Oh, love. What did you do that was so dreadful that they had to do this to you?" Keilantra didn't answer.

Terri took a few bottles and rags out of her apron and began to pour soothing ointments onto Keilantra's back and dab it lightly with soft, clean rags. "You brought this on yourself, you know," she began. "You know your place. Jennifer taught you well, did she not?"

"Yes," Keilantra murmured hoarsely. She could remember the first day that she had arrived at the Crouch Manor, she didn't know a thing about slavery.

_The wagon rumbled along, bumping here and there. Then it stopped outside a small building. Keilantra eagerly went to peak her head out to see where she was._

"_Here she is," the wagon driver said to a man, sitting in a rocker right outside the house. "She's an elf princess, so she should be worth a lot according to the boss."_

"_Aye," the man stood up. "Elves always are." He dragged Keilantra out of the back and threw her into the back of his own wagon. Then he waved the other wagon driver farewell and sat in the front of his wagon._

_The phrase "She's an elf princess" was altered a lot as she was passed from wagon driver to wagon driver. The next man she was passed to was told "She's an elf maiden," then "She's a wealthy young maiden," then "She's a common peasant," then "She's a common slave." True, these men didn't take much notice of her pointed ears, because they had been covered by her hair which had fallen out of its hair tie on her journey. And they didn't take much notice of her little white dress either, because it had become so stained that the whiteness and expense of it couldn't be noticed._

_Finally, she arrived at the tiny village of Ceitha. They lined up slaves in the market place, selling them for high prices and low. The first one was a young man who had sold himself to make a living. The next was a little orphan who had been found in the Deep Forest. The one directly before Keilantra was another young girl who had had many mistresses before the next and had repeatedly been sold by each. Then it was Keilantra's turn._

_The men pushed her up in front of the crowd. "She starts with eight hundred gold coins!" he shouted. He had been told she was a slave who was worth a lot, though he had no idea why. Her hair was limp and unkempt and her dress was torn and soiled. She didn't look as magnificent as she did as a little princess. She gazed timidly at the market scene before her._

"_I'll take her!" a loud voice sounded from the back of the crowd. The owner pushed its way through the crowd and, as he revealed himself, the crowd gasped. It was Lord Thomas Crouch! The richest man in Ceitha! He turned to face the man who was currently in charge of selling the slaves. "Are you absolutely sure she is worth that much, because I only buy the best of the best and..."_

"_I was given direct orders that this was one of a kind, sir," the man told him._

"_Eight hundred gold coins," he placed a bag in his hand._

"_Sold!"_

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_She was taken to the Manor, where the four young girls embraced their father joyously. Then Gwendalyn noticed Keilantra._

"_Who is this, father?" she questioned. She had just turned thirteen that year, and was very proud of herself. So much so, that her father thought she was going to grow up to be a fine young lady, maybe even marry the prince._

"_This is a slave girl," he replied. "I thought she could possibly be more like our lady-in-waiting than our slave, for she would make a wonderful friend for you once she's cleaned up a bit," he grimaced at her clothing._

"_Oh, yes! Oh, yes!" they all jumped together, clapping their little hands in glee. Keilantra was the shortest of them, even Jacqueline, who was only a few months older._

"_But, girls, I must leave in a few days to go to Iyenthra for a few years." Iyenthra was a foreign land in Endelia that was well-known for its wonderful chefs, even though most people there couldn't speak English, only Iyenthraian. "So, I want you to watch over her and make sure she has a good home, ok?"_

"_Ok!" They all glowered at the thought. Then they turned to Keilantra and began to drown her with questions._

"_What's your name?"_

"_How old are you?"_

"_How long have you been a slave?"_

"_Where are you from?"_

"_Why are you so small?"_

"_Why do you wear a short dress? It is rude."_

_Keilantra couldn't understand English, and thought that perhaps the young girls were angry at her for some reason. Her heart began to pound. What did she do wrong?_

"_Lo siento! Lo siento!" Keilantra yelled. It meant "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" But, as she couldn't understand them, they couldn't understand her._

"_Daddy," Gwenevere pouted. "She speaks in tongues."_

"_Ah, she speaks Spanish, my sweet," Thomas said. "Today I shall buy her a Spanish book on how to speak English."_

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_Keilantra would spend hours on the floor of the manor, studying from her book. She could understand quite a few common phrases now. Just as she was learning English, the Lord had to take off to Iyenthra._

_The five of them lined up outside the manor, waving and shouting, "Good bye! Good bye!" Lord Thomas waved also as he slid into the carriage. Then the horses were whipped to a trot and the carriage was gone._

"_Come inside, girls," Lady Brunhilde said through tears. The girls obeyed. "Now line up here," she gestured to an area in front of her. The girls obeyed. "Five daughters is a care for on my own," she began. "And I'm afraid I might have to let one of you go." The four Crouch daughters stared at her with pleading eyes, but Keilantra stood there, looking confused. What was she talking about? "Keilantra," Keilantra looked at her expectantly when her name was said. "You must do what you have been sold to do. I'm afraid that I cannot care for you unless you work for it, dearie."_

_Keilantra smiled and nodded. She must've been telling her how obedient she had been over the past few days. But she wasn't. When Lady Brunhilde handed her a servant's dress, Keilantra understood. Her smile changed into a solemn face. Her eyes filled to the brim with tears as she continued to nod slowly. "Jennifer," Lady Brunhilde said. "Take this child up to her quarters." Jennifer must've been at least ten years older then Keilantra, but she took her gently by the hand and took her upstairs and then up a ladder into a small confined space filled with all sorts of little mats where the other servants slept._

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_The days went by slowly as Keilantra stubbornly did her tasks. She struggled to understand their words and hand gestures so that she could obey. She tried not to complain. Maybe this slavery was only temporary. But it lasted for quite a long while—seven years to be exact._

_She constantly was tripping over her petticoats that were underneath her dress. She had never worn petticoats before. She felt oddly embarrassed when wearing an apron because it didn't cover her entire body. Clumsy mistake after clumsy mistake was made. Guests considered her rude to speak to them and to show her fore legs when she had to walk anywhere. She didn't know how to be a proper slave._

_When Jennifer saw how she struggled to do each and every chore, she made up her mind to teach Keilantra her place as a slave. Keilantra struggle to understand what she was saying, but Jennifer proceeded without stopping: she must always lift her dress up to her ankles, not her forelegs, when she walks, she must always place the fork on the left side, the spoon and fork on the right, sitting in the presence of higher authorities is very rude indeed, talking to higher authorities when not spoken to is also considered rude..._

_Her commands droned on. Keilantra finally learned her place and definite improvements were made. She was a fast learner. These lessons went on for six months and by that time Keilantra could say a whole conversation in English. But Jennifer is what really saved her from being sold all over again. She was always in debt to Jennifer, but Jennifer always made her shudder with her cat-like eyes._

_But Jennifer also was captured by Keilantra's deep brown eyes. She, like many others before her, couldn't help looking deep into the very depths of Keilantra's eyes, no matter how much younger than her Keilantra was. Keilantra always wondered why._

Terri continued to rub her back gently with the rags and ointment. She finally bandaged it up and tied her dress back up again. "You need to rest, baby. When you can, patch up that hole, will you?" She pointed to a large hole were freezing cold air was blasting in, followed by snowflakes and tidied up her bottles and rags and began to leave. "Oh," she stopped. "By the way, that boy that came by and had luncheon with the ladies, he wanted me to give you this," she put a heavy box down on the floor near Keilantra. "Good bye for now," and she left.

"Ok," Keilantra choked. Then she sat up slowly. The pain didn't hurt so horribly anymore. She rolled off her mat and grabbed the box. What did Dimitri send her? She opened it and saw the books that he had given to her the night before. No sooner had she opened them then they were covered in black tears dripping from her nose, leaving a trail of salt down her pale face.

She pulled out the first one: Beauty and the Beast. She used to love that story when she read it in Spanish at her tribe. But, now, as she read it again, it seemed so different—almost like, when you fall in love with someone horribly ugly, they will become beautiful. Impossible. She thrust it aside and pulled out another one.

The Little Mermaid. She hadn't read it before, but, as she did, she couldn't help but feel it also was impossibly. For goodness' sake, the girl couldn't speak! What if she had opinions against the kingdom and becoming princess that the prince didn't know about and couldn't understand?

She thrust it aside and pulled out another one: Snow White. She just couldn't understand how you could fall in love with someone who's dead. Dead isn't beautiful; it's pale and ugly. Dead is not good. And love comes from the heart, not from a shallow prince. She thrust it aside and drew out another one.

Sleeping Beauty. She had been dead a hundred years and probably covered in dust and spider webs, and a prince who probably wasn't even half her age kissed her before he even knew her name or whether she was dead or not. And why would he go through all that trouble to get into an abandoned castle, anyway?

She thrust that aside and drew out Rapunzel. By now, books completely covered the floor area around her mat. Rapunzel didn't even know the guy and let him climb up her hair and flirt with her. Then, he became blind and still found her in the desert. And furthermore, he could see again when she cried into his eyes and they lived happily ever after. Impossible like the many before it. Keilantra thrust that also aside and drew out the Princess and the Pea.

The pea would've been flattened under the weight of all those mattresses. What a completely impossible, posh, spoiled fairy tale. The prince falls in love with the princess because she can feel a pea under her mattresses. Keilantra angrily thrust that aside and drew out one more.

Cinderella.

Keilantra burst into tears. Cinderella had been a dish maid, similar to Keilantra herself, and became a princess. Keilantra thought it was lovely, with a beautiful ending, but still impossible. One dance shouldn't make a prince fall in love unless he's very shallow. Then he stalks her around the countryside until he finds the dame and marries her, even though he doesn't even know her name. She thrust it as far from herself as possible.

Keilantra wanted a fairy tale. Keilantra wanted to marry a prince and live happily ever after. Keilantra wanted to be swept off her feet and taken to his palace to live happily ever after. She would be a different sort of fairy tale, one where she would be the slave and then marry the prince and become the princess, but not do it with her beauty. She would do it with her personality and love. Yes, she would surely marry Prince Jerrold!

And live happily... ever... after.


	7. I'll Be Free From These Chains

6. I'll be Free from these Chains

Keilantra glanced over at the Cinderella book. She smirked slightly before crawling over to it and hugging it close to her chest. Then she gently placed it on top of her mat. One thing that Dimitri had said was true: if you want something, you have to take chances for it; if you care about something, you have to work for it. She had to make a move before she could have anything wonderful and miraculous happen to her.

She looked up at the hole that punctured the roof of the manor and glared at it, as if she hated it. She reached over to grab Jonathan's mat and nailed it over the hole so that not much wind or light could enter the room. She turned her head to see her little box that held all her belongings in it, except for her bow, which she hid on her person all the time.

It was a quaint little box, carved messily out of oak wood, and carved with patterns of centaurs and dragons, with a little handle on top. She reached for it and pulled it close. It wasn't very big. She could easily carry it around wherever she went if she had to. She opened it to run her fingers through all of her most precious belongings: a picture she had drawn for Lady Brunhilde when she first arrived, her Spanish-English dictionary, her knee-length dress she had worn when she was eight, a few needles and thread, and pieces of old rags and cloth.

She took the Cinderella book from off of her mat and placed it in the box. Then she folded up her mat so that it also could fit. She drew her loaf and her flask of water out of her apron and placed them also in her box. She struggled to jam the lid shut so she drew out the food, the mat, and the book and put them in separate pockets of her apron. Then she closed the box effortlessly, took it by the handle, and stood up, straightening her dress.

She walked down the spiraling staircase in a very stately manner, lifting her dress only up to her ankles, and having a stern look about her whole face. Her knuckles were white from gripping the box so hard, as if scared that someone would snatch it away. Gwendalyn passed her, going up the stairs, before she paused and turned to look at her oddly.

"Where are _you _going?" she sneered.

"Out," Keilantra answered, not bothering to stop.

Gwenda began to slowly continue. "Just don't be long. You need to brush my hair tonight."

"I won't." Keilantra continued until she got to the bottom of the staircase. There, she paused, then turned to walk into the kitchen. "Terri," she said simply. "I need food."

"We all do, dear," Terri said, then proceeded.

"I really need it. A week's worth. Maybe two."

Terri turned to look strangely at Keilantra before she scoffed. "Keilantra, this isn't another one of your attempts to run away, is it?"

"It is not an attempt. I shall not be returning this time."

"You have tried four times already, but never have you succeeded."

"It's all in the timing," Keilantra told her. "Now is the right time. If I don't leave now, then I never shall."

"You're not going," Terri continued with her work.

"I am. And if you don't give me the food to go, then I shall go without, and perhaps starve. You wouldn't want that will you?"

"No, I wouldn't," Terri said. "I will give you some food, but I can assure you that you will come right back." She began rummaging through the pantry, pulling out vegetables and fruit and some bread, too. She handed it all to Keilantra, who stuffed it, too, into her apron. "No meat," she insisted. "It will go bad."

"What about the cakes that you cook for the ladies? And the pudding?"

"I want you to have a healthy body, child," Terri touched her chin and searched her face over. "You are never going to accomplish that with cakes and pudding. You'll end up looking like me when you get older." She chuckled. Then she hugged Keilantra tightly, causing her to yelp as her sore back was crushed, "Sorry, love," Terri drew back. "I love you. Now go." Terri bid her farewell and turned back to her cooking and cleaning.

Keilantra smiled slightly, whispered, "I love you, too," then she turned and left the kitchen, then exited the manor, grabbing her old cloak on the way out, not bothering to turn back. She braided her hair back again and slid on her cloak to cover it. She was once again, invisible, unnoticeable, and concealed.

She passed the gate of the manor before she dared to look back. She said good-bye to the place where she had spent almost half of her life at. She couldn't express it with words, for she didn't feel she would truly miss it. She just looked the whole place over before she turned again and proceeded.

She turned her head to glance at the marketplace in the valley below, and then turned back to head in the opposite direction. This was the way toward the Forgotten Forest, where dangers were beyond prediction. Dragons, shape-shifters, centaurs, pixies, fairies, unicorns, and the likes roamed the area, doing whatever they pleased. If they perchance came upon a human, which was extremely rare, they would have their time of satisfaction with them.

But Keilantra didn't care. She was taking the risk anyways. She just had to live up to her fairy tale. Her heart thudded as she neared the forest. It looked horribly daunting, with giant bugs crawling in and out of the trees, and spiders peering down at her from their webs. Direful branches crept from the greenish-grayish trees, like long spiny fingers ready to strangle her. Keilantra reached a hand up to her throat. Terri was right. She was turning back.

She turned around, but came face to face with a black horse that towered above her. She stepped back and spotted the rider: Dimitri. She turned and began to run, but every step sent pain through her spine and her back, so that she couldn't run any longer and Dimitri pulled his horse in front of her.

"What do you want from me?!" she sneered up at him while trying to catch her breath. "Do you know what the results of your actions are?"

"No," he replied. "But I don't personally care. What are you doing now?"

"Getting away from this place," she turned to face the Forgotten Forest once again.

"Through there?" he sounded amused. "Pray tell why?"

"No reason," she mumbled.

"I'll take you." Keilantra paused. Would he? She turned around and scoffed at him. He had a horse. He was stronger than she. Revenge was sweet: to use him like he used her. She could easily get to Klorith through him.

"No catches?"

"No. You can be my little lady-in-waiting thing that you were."

"A slave," Keilantra corrected. "And I'll be more than happy to." Then she added under her breath, "Just get me to Klorith."

"Done," he grinned. "Now, get up here, Keil." Keilantra handed him her box then slipped her foot in the old stirrup. She boosted herself up into the saddle directly behind him.

"You've already nicknamed me?" she questioned.

"Keilantra is too long a name. And it sounds like cilantro."

"Don't make fun of my name," she raised her voice. Elves were quite prideful creatures, and she inherited that part of her father. She looked down. The ground seemed a far way off. She shuddered and hugged Dimitri's waist—tight. He struggled to remove her small hands, but she refused to let go.

"Fine," he sighed. He pulled Rhonda's reigns toward the Forgotten Forest and began to walk straight for it. To Keil it wasn't so scary now. She was on a horse. And she had a man who was stronger than she was to protect her if anything should happen.

"Where are your things?" she asked, thinking it odd that he didn't have his tent, or his chest, or any of his other things with him. He didn't answer. He just proceeded until they got to the edge of the forest.

"Say good-bye," he told her, then headed straight in.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Jerrold walked through the marketplace, slipping invites to the ball in everyone's basket, or bag, or into their pocket, or in their hand. "Everyone must be invited," he told himself. "No one must be excluded."

When he had none left, he made his way back toward the palace, where, supposedly, his father would be commanding his guards and executioners to cut out an elf's throat, or arm, or foot, or other body part that he thought would prove useful to the human being.

Arriving, he was right. His father was there, telling his guards to take countless numbers of helpless elves out to the courtyard to be executed. He tried to sneak past, hoping he wasn't spotted, but he was.

"Son!" his father called. "Come here!" Jerrold obeyed reluctantly. "If you are to be king someday, then you must know how you are to treat your enemy—mercilessly."

"Aye, father," Jerrold responded. "But why must they be our enemy?"

"Because they are wiser, more beautiful, and more skilled than we are. I can't have that."

"Father," Jerrold tried to steer his father's decision. "You have to have the brain in order for the other parts of your body to work the way that they do."

King Darcy thought for a while, and then had a smile that reached from ear to ear. "How clever my son is!" he announced. "Is not my son clever?" All the guards readily nodded, murmuring to each other in approval. "We must remove the brain in order for the other parts to work! Do so, men."

Jerrold looked horrified. He hadn't meant it that way. Why couldn't his father understand? Jealousy didn't solve anything. He turned and ran straight to his room. Perhaps thinking of the ball will get his mind off of this.

How about that little town of Ceitha that he had visited once? If they continued to go unnoticed, then everyone there would miss out. He couldn't travel there, surely not, but he could send the invitations out.

He didn't know the townsfolk's' names. Or their addresses. How could he send invitations to people he didn't know? At least he knew the lords and ladies that inhabited the place, as well as the courtiers. He could send them their invitations. He began to write them out with his fancy quill pen in beautiful calligraphy. They wouldn't get there until a week later.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

The first part of the woods wasn't really that frightening. Just dark. Keil had instantly anticipated that Dimitri would be calling her the new name from then on, so she accepted it. She didn't know what to do once they had set off though. She just left that to Dimitri, who was still muttering angrily under his breath about how tight her grip was.

Her hood covered half of her face, and the other half was darkened by the shadows that the trees cast over them. Dimitri had a stern look about his face, and the playful look had left his eye. As for the place around them, a musky thickness hung about, making it near impossible to breathe. It was so dark, that at first neither could see, except for Rhonda, who would jerk every once in a while because of weird sounds. Their eyes soon became accustomed to the darkness and they could see the ground that lay before them, covered in twigs and sticks and dried leaves and some creature droppings.

They were silent for a long while. Nothing was to be heard except for pixies cackling in the distance, and little bugs making their chirping sounds. Dusk was falling fast. It was very dark in the Forgotten Forest, even in the day, but there were unusual sounds and smells as well as feelings when darkness was coming.

Strangely, Keil didn't feel free. She didn't feel as if anything were different. She felt she should be rejoicing that she had left and never would come back, but the feeling wouldn't come. Maybe it was because she was with Dimitri, maybe it was because it was dark and scary, or maybe it was because she had grown used to being a slave. But whatever reason, she knew that she had a long road ahead of her. A long, dangerous road. They wouldn't make it there that night, or the night after. It would take quite a long time before they made it to Torron, then a while more until they made it to Klorith.

Danger was not something to be underestimated. As with danger one will think that nothing is too hard. Experiencing danger firsthand will changer one's mind. Keil was one where in her thoughts, danger was very limited, and vast danger was unimaginable. The Forgotten Forest was but a clump of trees separating one town from another and could easily be maneuvered through. As she continued on, it seemed a mite more than a clump.

Keil fell sleepy and began to loosen her grip on Dimitri's waist, who had stopped grumbling. She stayed awake though; she didn't trust him. Her eyes began to close and then she forced them open. She did this several times.

"Are we there yet?" she finally mumbled sleepily.

Dimitri tried hard to keep from laughing. He turned to look at her. She looked quite lifeless. "It isn't even seven yet and you're sleepy already?" Keil nodded. Dimitri slid off of the horse and then pulled Keil off with him. "We have to keep going until the end of the day. Even then we cannot fall asleep in these woods. At least one has to stay awake. We will walk so that you'll stay awake." Keil could only yawn and nod, and then she began to walk along side Dimitri and Rhonda.

Dimitri was even more silent than a mouse, but Keil's steps thudded against the hard forest floor. Rhonda's steps were a very steady trot that sounded over and over in Keil's head. Everything seemed blurred and dimmed. Their footsteps were a steady beat on the ground.

Trot, step, thud. Trot, step, thud.

It went on for quite a long time. Keil's eyelids had grown heavy, and her deep brown eyes were burning. Her tiny feet ached horribly and her thighs felt pain going through them. She felt as if she couldn't walk another step. Yet it was only seven.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Jerrold shuddered and rolled over. Then he shuddered again. Nothing could describe what he was feeling. He couldn't even describe it. He had everything he ever needed and wanted, yet he felt like he had such a horrible life. Was it that he was ungrateful?

Surely not. Every maiden in Endelia wanted his hand. They wouldn't want to marry an ungrateful prince, would they? Or perhaps they wouldn't care. As long as they had comfort and happiness and power, they would be fine.

Jerrold finally got up and went to his window. The stars winked down at him from the smooth night sky. "They smirk at me," he commented. "As if they know something I don't."

He inhaled the crisp night air. It was fresh and cold. Very refreshing. He wanted to do something more to help him get off to sleep though. Something drastic. Something crazy.

The very next second he was dressed and climbing out the window and down the wall to the floor. He smiled. A quick break from the stress of day would do him plenty of good. He ran across the royal courtyard until he reached the marble gates, which he crept over. Then he ran the five minutes distance to the gardens. The beautiful gardens.

The fragrance of the budding roses and the glorious chrysanthemums was radiant. He could almost see the fragrance, or so he felt. Beautiful trees covered the garden, arrayed in all sorts of decorations, and giving great shade on any sort of day. Leaves smothered the smooth dirt path, lined with pansies and daisies. The path swerved this way and that through all the varieties of flowers and bushes and trees and other plants growing in their finery.

Jerrold walked over the path in such a stately manner. This place was normally bustling about with all sorts of people. Some were only excited to be where the prince has been, others wanted to stoop to smell the flowers, and still others just wanted to be somewhere peaceful. It was about as empty as the abandoned castle nearing the end of it.

Jerrold spotted the beautiful fountain in the center of the garden. It was the main feature of the gardens. Water spurted magically from it and fell back in beautiful blankets of glazed water sheets into the water with majestic white foam. Its frame was nothing but pure marble, like the gate, embedded with all sorts of fine jewels, though some were missing because of desperate thieves. Jerrold ran his fingers through it. It looked like ice, until he touched it. Then, ripples spread around the area.

Jerrold smiled. All that could be heard was the gentle hiss as the fountain shot water into the small area of water below it. Jerrold sat on the rim of it and just twirled his fingers in it for quite some time. Choosing to marry was a big step. But his father wanted him to be a might king with a beautiful queen, and his mother wanted to see her grandchildren.

Jerrold wasn't sure he _wanted_ to marry. But that was being selfish. It was what was best for his kingdom. He would have to choose that night... at the ball... his bride.

He sighed.

"I might as well woman-proof the palace."


	8. Leave Me a Clue

6. Leave Me a Clue

Keil blinked. She blinked again. She yawned. She continued blankly on, following the sound of Dimitri and Rhonda's footsteps. She suddenly felt herself falling through the air, and landing with a thud on the hard forest floor. She groaned and began to spit the dirt and dried leaves out of her mouth.

Dimitri looked funny at her. "Well, I suppose this is a fine place to make camp," he commented. Keil stood up and nodded, before leaning against a tree. "Just as long as you don't fear dragons eating you up in one bite during the night." Keil's face didn't change expressions. She simply continued going the way they were headed, Dimitri following her, chuckling to himself.

They had been walking for quite some time. The roots of the trees were hard to step on, and some of the trees were so condensed that it was near impossible to pass through them. Certain areas were infested with layer upon layer of spider webs. Rhonda would march on regardless, breaking through it all, making a path for Keil and Dimitri. Keil didn't notice any of the dreaded features of the woods. She was too sleepy for that. She began to stagger and bump against certain trees.

She finally shook it out of her and struggled to continue, yawning every other second. It was getting late. Keil wondered when they would stop and make camp, just as long as there wasn't a risk of getting bombarded by creatures. She had to blink long and hard, several times, to try to keep her eyes open, and even then they kept closing before she opened them again, remembering where she was.

The place was unfamiliar. But she assumed that Dimitri knew where he was going. It was only a short trip across the forest, wasn't it? That was another underestimating of danger in Keil's mind. She felt like Klorith was just moments away, but then again, she felt like she would never get there. Her heart started pounding. She couldn't keep up with Dimitri very well.

Suddenly he stopped and Keil bumped into his back, falling onto the floor again. "That's funny," Dimitri's words broke the long silence. "We were supposed to be at the clearing by now."

"We were?" Keil rubbed her eyes. "Have you been here before?"

"Trust me, I know this forest like the back of my hand," he looked around strangely.

"I see," Keilantra stood up and leaned against a tree, her arms folded over her chest.

"I just can't remember seeing this place before," Dimitri looked around. If Keil had been wide awake and in a bad mood, she would've yelled at him for getting them lost. She could barely stand up though.

"I can't see," Keil finally mumbled. "I can't see." She yawned. She couldn't think straight either.

"Wait here," Dimitri told her. Keil nodded. She had no trouble with that, as long as Rhonda was there. Dimitri began to climb a tree, to look out to see what time of day it was. He couldn't make it to the top. But he could make it high enough to see that there was almost no light left of the day. "It's about the ninth or so hour," he told her, climbing back down. "We can make camp now."

"Bien!" Keil said excitedly. Dimitri nodded.

"Yes. Bien," he rose an eyebrow and coughed. Suddenly, his eyes widened. He pointed behind Keil. "Look out! Dragon!"

"Where?!" Keilantra spun around, searching everywhere. Maybe it was hiding among the trees. Maybe it flew off. Maybe it was right behind her. There was nothing there. "I don't see any..." she turned back around. Right where Dimitri was standing was the same tent that he had had in Ceitha. He was standing next to a pile of sticks, trying to light it. "How did you...?"

"How did I what?"

"Where did that come from?"

"The tent?" He gestured toward it. "I ran back to Ceitha and grabbed it quickly, remember?"

"No. You couldn't have done that in five seconds, Señor," Keil added, walking over to the comforting looking rest area. It was quite a large clearing, with leaves spread out so that the firm dirt floor could be seen. It was a circular area, like all the trees had made way just for that specific clearing.

"You must have blacked out." The fire caught a spark and he began to blow until there was a tiny flame. Then he added more dried leaves and twigs to it. "That'll do. You rest. You'll need it." Keil nodded and stretched. Then she crawled into the tent and fell fast asleep before she even lay down.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Do you think she...?" Dimitri's voice was heard from outside the tent as Keil awoke at least an hour or so later. "No. She can't. She couldn't have discovered it. At least I don't think so." A horse's snort was heard. "I know. It seems like it. But she couldn't have. It's impossible." Keil managed crawl on her stomach until her head was out of the tent unnoticed. She still couldn't see properly though.

"But what if...?" Dimitri paused. "She's hiding something. I know it. The way she wears that cape of hers and that bow that is way beyond her budget. Maybe she's..." Keil couldn't see properly. Everything looked blurry. She could see a dark image of something black though. Probably Rhonda. It whinnied. Definitely Rhonda.

"We're lost, Rhonda," Dimitri added. "There's no other way to put it; we're lost. Maybe Keil brings bad luck. She's catching on. Usually the 'you blacked out' scheme works. She didn't seem convinced. What if I leave her behind?"

_Oh, no you don't, _Keilantra thought. This was much too important a trip to be left behind... on her own... with no means of transportation or protection.

"I probably shouldn't," he added. "As long as she remains her place as slave she can be kept out of my business. I shall treat her mercilessly. She is my pet. As long as she stays that way, nothing can go wrong." Keil could hear a clinking sound. He obviously had something in his hand. "Not even this."

Keil withdrew into the tent and hugged her knees to her chest. A pet? Why must she be a pet? Just when she had thought she was free form slavery, she had become a pet. He definitely was up to something. He definitely was hiding something. It was up to her to find out. She lay back down to sleep.

"I sort of hate it," that was the last she heard from Dimitri before she went back into her slumber, filled with nightmares of betrayal and broken-heartedness.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Wake up!" Dimitri whispered harshly, shaking Keil's shoulder. "Wench, wake up!" Keil awoke and sat up.

"Why?" She yawned. Then she remembered the night before and sank back down.

"From now on, you are to do exactly as I say, exactly when I say it. Understood?" He looked fiercer than he ever had.

"Why?" she whined. She had heard him the night before, but she still didn't know the reason why.

"Because I told you to," he snapped. "And if you don't, you always know that you are very small and I am very big."

"What does that mean?" Keil sat completely up. She tried to pretend she was brave, but there was fear in her eyes. No one can ever hide fear, no matter how hard they try.

"That means that I'll do whatever I like depending on my mood. Now, I command you to get out of the tent," he crawled out in front of her and Keilantra hastily obeyed. It was a true gutting moment, but if she didn't, she knew the fact that he was bigger than her. And she couldn't get to Klorith without him.

It was still very, very dark. Darker than before. It must've still been night, but the fire was ablaze as Dimitri crawled around to the other side. Keil sat up at one end, wondering what was going on.

"I assume you know how to obey?" he questioned.

"I do," Keil's voice was stern, as if she was teaching him a lesson. Maybe he noticed, but he continued.

"Shall I test you?"

"Do what you wish. I don't care. I can endure."

"Alright," he thought for a while, rubbing his chin. "Sing again."

"Again?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"What shall I sing?"

"Sing the same song you sang me two nights ago."

"There's more to it," Keil felt proud that she could share her song. "Shall I sing the next part?"

"Do it. Now," Dimitri lay on his back, his arms behind his head.

Keil sang the second verse without hesitation. She felt at times though that he wasn't listening.

"You who I see again,

I cannot stand the pain.

I'll be free from these chains.

Leave me a clue."

She stopped. His eyes had closed. Suddenly he sat up. "Why did you stop?"

"Were you listening?"

"Indeed."

"Did I do well?"

"Of course," he was thoughtful for a while. "Next time, don't ask questions. Just do it."

Keil nodded. "Si. May I go back to bed now?"

Dimitri turned toward her. "Yes, because I command you to. I expect you to wake up in the morning and make us breakfast." Keil nodded again and crawled into the tent.

The floor felt so soft, so relaxing. She was tired. She didn't feel any signs: no sore eyes, no drowsiness. She just knew when she lay on the floor of the tent that she was very, very tired. Before she let herself fall fast asleep, though, she asked Dimitri, "Are you going to sleep?"

He sort of scoffed. "Here? At night? With creatures about? Are you kidding?" Then Keil fell into a very deep sleep, not able to be woken throughout the rest of the night.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

_The child was beautiful—more beautiful than any. The snow was arrayed in such a fashion around her as a wolf, sitting next to her, howling at the moon. Her blonde tresses lay gently on her back, for there was no wind about. Her piercing blue eyes looked around her. She stood up and the snow wolf moved, as if to salute her. Even impossibilities would become possible for this one. She walked away, toward the edge of a cliff, to look down into the vast distance below._

_She looked down, her eyes focusing on what was below. She saw a great number of figures, though none were clear. One was a man who looked hurt at first, and then his happiness grew until he looked like he was the luckiest man in the world._

_The next was that of a girl, who looked very gentle and happy, and her expression never changed. She was very close to another girl, though. That girl looked similar to an elf. A very small, young elf who seemed lost, then torn, then lonely, then she stayed that way. The next five looked almost identical to one another, though they weren't very clear. They all were very close to the other girl too, but left her side eventually._

_The last one was a man who looked stern and hardhearted, then softened up gradually, then he suddenly looked very hurt. The child wished to go down and comfort him, but she could see that he was moving in on the elf, with anger. He acted upon it, too. He acted upon it so that the child had to look away. She didn't feel he needed comforting anymore. To act upon such rage was atrocious and unacceptable._

_And she, Princess Keilantra Skyler Jayden Adianca Dianna Kay, would not allow it. She made her way back to the snow wolf, thinking of what to do. The wolf seemed to welcome her and she smiled. She sat next to it, and it covered her like a blanket, though it was made up of snow. But she rested in its softness and coldness. Her eyes shut and she fell into a deep sleep, the smile gone from her face._

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"She's not back yet?" Penelope asked anxiously, twirling a strand of her honey blonde hair on a finger, her face looking out the window, hoping to catch some sign of the child running home.

"Not yet," Jennifer answered, pacing the room.

"I don't want her to get into big trouble like she did this morning," Penelope shuddered once again at the image of the poor, beaten-up old thing that looked so pitiful just that morning.

Terri hadn't said anything the whole time. She just sat in a rickety old rocking chair, rocking back and forth as she knitted a little sweater for no one in particular. _What if she really had decided to run away for good?_ she thought to herself. She felt as guilty as if she had just murdered someone or stole something.

"Maybe she's out working late," Jonathan suggested, trying to stay on the bright side.

"This late?" Penelope countered. "It's almost one, for goodness' sake."

"Do you think she snuck out again?" Laurence asked, a scowl on his face, a frown making his furrows even deeper.

"No," Jennifer shook her head. "She learned her lesson."

"Then _where_ is she?!" Penelope grew frustrated. "The child could be anywhere, for Pete's sake! Why isn't she back? Someone give me an answer!"

Terri spoke up. "I... I don't know."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Jerrold stayed near the fountain for a very, very long time. He must've been daydreaming, for the hours past like minutes. He took one last look at the beautiful feature before leaving the place. As he exited the gardens, he heard a loud snore. He turned quickly to see a sleeping guard laying on the floor and sighed with relief. Then he ran back the way he had come, not stopping once He gripped the vines that led up to his chambers with a firm grasp, and began to climb.

He reached the top and climbed in, but what met him there caught him by surprise. There, in the center of his room, were his parents. His father was scowling furiously, and his mother was looking very prim and proper, but her lip was twitching slightly.

"Son!" King Darcy roared. "Do you _know_ what time it is?!" In response to his son's silence, he added, "It's almost one! Do you know what would have happened if one of the guards saw you this late?"

"The guards were asleep," his son replied.

"What?!" Darcy raised his voice. "Off with their—"

"Darcy!" Queen Linda snapped. "Be more considerate. They're probably very tired and need some rest from a long day's work. Who's going to come by in the middle of the night anyway?"

"My son is. And I didn't train sluggards. So, off with their—"

"You should consider, father, that they probably only took a rest. They were most presumably going to wake up again," his son tried to reason with him.

"I don't care. Off with their—"

"Try to keep it down, Darcy. You're going to wake up everyone in the palace's household," his wife said sternly.

"Perhaps they need to be. Off with their heads!" There was a long silence. No one did anything. King Darcy was used to everyone doing everything he asked whenever he asked it. But no one was there to obey. All that could be heard was the crickets chirping from outside.

Queen Linda went forward to shut the window. Then she turned to her son and spoke very firmly. "If you try to leave during the night once more, we will bolt this door. Understand, son?"

"Yes," Jerrold crawled into his bed and buried himself beneath layers and layers of crimson colored duvets. Then Queen Linda quickly forced the complaining king out of the room and back into their chambers.


	9. Fight by My Lonely Side

9. Fight by My Lonely Side

"Jerrold! Awaken and get out here now!" Darcy pounded on the door to the prince's sleeping chambers. A guard stood nearby, his expression unchanging, as trained. Darcy smirked at him. Then he continued to pound. "Jerrold, come out or the guard will force the door down!"

Jerrold sat up and yawned. Why did he have to awaken so early? He stood up, leaving his bed a mess, and began to change into his normal robes. Then he appeared at the door. "Yes?"

"Jerrold, come down to the dining hall," Darcy announced, turning his back. "Your mother and I have a surprise we think you'll quite enjoy." Jerrold, unable to guess at what it might be, could not withhold his curiosity, so he eagerly followed.

His father wound through passages and passages of different rooms. Jerrold didn't even know what each of them held. They finally reached a large staircase that went straight down. The king descended it gradually and Jerrold continued on behind him. They reached the door to the grand dining hall and both entered.

Linda was seated at the far end of the long table. The rest was completely empty. They never usually had a private breakfast. The dining hall was usually crowded with soldiers, guards, counselors, and other people from within the palace household. But not the servants. They had their own eating quarters.

Jerrold made his way down the table and seated himself across from his mother, his father beside him. "What is it?" he asked anxiously. "What is it you wanted to give me?"

"Son," his father grinned. "Your mother and I did some talking last night and decided that, there is no other reason for your recent behavior, than you are stressed. Are you stressed?"

His son was motionless.

"Well, we decided that the reason you are stressed must be because of this recent burden we have given you. So, we decided that any respectable young lady may come to the palace at any time to impress you. If there is one that is strikingly above the others, you may propose marriage at the ball, after first informing us of course," he awaited his son's reaction.

"Is that all?"

The king frowned. "No. Your mother and I are going to send you off to Phoebit tomorrow, to examine the six princesses there. That is a choose from. If no respectable maiden is found suitable for you, you can select one of those. And if you do not choose any, on the night of the ball, I will choose for you."

"Must I go to Phoebit?"

"Yes. The servants are already packing your things and preparing your guards."

"It is usually customary for the princesses to come to me, isn't it?" Jerrold protested.

"Yes, but King Benjamin refused to take the time and money to send them here."

Jerrold sighed. "I shall go, but I shall not like it." He stood up and left the dining hall.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"I'm tellin' ya, the last time she was seen was when she 'ad those pritty red lashes across 'er back," Jacqueline's nursemaid, Krista, snapped at the Jennifer.

"No!" Jennifer snapped back. "I saw her walk down that big staircase last. That's where she was. She was going to leave. She told it so to the Lady Gwendalyn. I had to do her_ hair_ last night."

Just then, the household farmer, Gary, walked in from the back door of the kitchen, which led out to the fields, whistling to himself, a hoe swung over his shoulders. "Gary! Gary!" hollered Krista, running to him. "Did ya see the little black-'aired one last night? Did ya see when she was seen last?" He shook his head. "I told ya, Jenny! Ya need to lurn not to contradict yer elders!"

"That doesn't prove anything!" Jennifer yelled at her.

"What's going on in here?" Jonathan walked in, followed by Terri and Penelope. "What's all this fuss about?"

"The wench isn't back yet, 'n when she were last seen, she were on 'er bed, feelin' a mite sorry for 'erself," Krista told them.

"No, she was coming down the stairs, ready to walk out the door," Jennifer countered. "She wouldn't get herself whipped again. She must've been kidnapped while running an errand, the poor child."

"No, she's never been kidnapped before, what makes you think this will happen now?" Penelope pushed past Jonathan and pointed a dirty finger at Jennifer's face. Her grayish-blonde hair was disheveled, as she had just jumped out of her bed when she heard the yelling going on in the kitchen, but it made it hard to see her blue eyes glaring uncomfortably. "Besides, she's a strong child. She's not some old lady... not yet."

Then the butler walked into the room, his back straight and his shoulders quite stiff. His black hair was always smoothed neatly back and his face cleanly washed. He tried to keep his uniform in shape, but asked Terri to mend it whenever there was a blemish. "Might I ask about the goings-on of this room?" he questioned. "If I may so interrupt, I believe that Jonathan is supposed to be cleaning the windows, Krista is supposed to be tending to Jacqueline's—"

"Bah! Curse the stupid child!" Krista spat. "She's 'a' whinin' fer Keilantra to bring 'er breakfast."

"Krista!" Terri looked dumbfounded. "Suppose that one of them ladies was down here, and heard you say that? Do you suppose that they would let you go without at least spilling it to their merciless mother?"

"Do ya think I s'pose that? 'Course not! But why should I care? I shouldn't! Because they can't do a thing to me that they 'aven't already done without me quittin'!" Krista announced proudly.

"Well said," Gary muttered. Krista spun on him.

"Shaddup! I didn't say it to impress anybody! 'N I 'ate that stupid girl! So clumsy 'n inconsiderate. She just won't stop yappin' about 'ow horrible I am and 'ow she wishes for another nursemaid."

"Well, I would too if she treated me like that," Jennifer retorted.

"Do ya 'onestly think that the other ones're any betta?" Krista glared at her.

"I should think so."

Krista held her glare, speechless, before muttering, "They'll be down for breakfast in a few minutes. You wait." Jennifer stuck out her chin and grinned cheekily. Krista had finished the talk. If anyone said anything after that, they would be slaughtered. Quick as anything, they all got back to work, and didn't say another word of the incident until Lady Brunhilde awoke.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Agh!" Keil sat up suddenly, wide awake. She looked around, frightened. Where was she? Dirty old tent, not much furniture, and funny-looking chest. Dimitri. She suddenly remembered. She was a slave again. She checked to make sure her hood was on properly before she crawled out.

Dimitri was there, eyes downcast, cooking eggs over the fire. She looked to see her sack filled with food that she had had beside him. She didn't know what to do. Was he angry with her for not making breakfast or was he satisfied with making it himself? She couldn't read his face, except for the tiredness that lined his eyes and the sagginess of his shoulders. She finally crawled out to greet him.

"Sorry, I woke up late," she murmured, crawling up to the fire, next to him. "I'll cook just now." She began to rummage through the sack that lay there. He stopped her and suddenly tossed a cold, cooked egg onto her skirts. She nodded her thanks slowly and began to eat.

"We might need more fruit and vegetables," Dimitri broke the silence. "There should be some bushes and plants somewhere around here."

"What if I lose my way?" Keil questioned. She saw his stern look and remembered what he said the night before. So she pulled a loose string from her dress and tied it to a branch before taking off to look for some more fruit, her skirt unraveling as she went along.

It wasn't as easy as it seemed, for these trees were big, and shed lots of leaves. The leaves covered most of the edible plants, making it even harder. And the trees were so condensed that Keil found it rather difficult for a dragon to come this low, when she couldn't even fit in some areas. She scanned the forest floor for anything considered of value. Berries would come in handy for flavoring, and root vegetables would be very nourishing.

She could see some mushrooms growing off trees. They would prove quite satisfying if they weren't poisonous. She began to climb and pull them off.

The mushrooms weren't poisonous. They were black underneath and white on top. That was one way to definitely tell when mushrooms were good to eat. Keil shoved them into her apron pockets and continued. She couldn't find any such berry bush or root vegetable. They were too difficult to spot. More mushrooms would make up for it, she decided, pulling them off.

Keil followed the string back to the clearing, her skirt full of mushrooms, to find that the camp was gone and there was no sign of any heavy luggage on Rhonda, which Dimitri had mounted. Everything dropped from her skirt as she glared angrily up at him.

"I _know _that you did something now," she said, trying to keep calm, but her lip twitching slightly. "Where is the tent and its contents?"

"Pixies came while you were gone and took them away," he said, not looking down. Keil still didn't trust him. "Now jump on. We should still be able to manage."

Keil immediately mounted on the back of the horse and pulled her little box out of the small saddlebags. She took her sewing things out and began to struggle to mend her dress, just to pass time. Under, over, under, over. She was growing bored quickly. But all the same, it gave her something to do.

The spare patches in her box gave some coverage over the major holes in her dress. There was one gash that went up to the middle of her thigh. And there was one hole on the hem that was quite large, and new. She hadn't noticed it before. She patched it up, though, leaving large, messy stitches. Her eyes soon became sore, so she put it down for a while.

Her stomach began to grumble. The single egg she had had that morning couldn't hold her for that long. She began to wonder how long they had been going at it and how she could endure this sort of suspense and boredom.

"We are definitely lost," Dimitri's voice startled her and she fell of the back of the horse, her sewing and box falling on top of her. Dimitri reigned in his horse and turned her around to face Keil.

"What?!" Keil stood up, dusting herself off and lifting up her things. "How could you let us get lost?! You said you knew this place like the back of your hand and I trusted you! And... and... and..." Her voice drowned out as Dimitri slid out of the saddle and began to come threateningly toward her. She began to shrink back as he came closer, an angry glare in his eye, his fists clenched.

She had underestimated his reaction, his strength. He couldn't possibly hurt her, she'd thought. But now it seemed as if there was no way out of escaping _his _punishment. She had made a mistake by yelling at him and very much regretted it now. She began to step back farther, and he began to move faster. Then she turned and began to run, but he caught hold of the back of her cape and slammed her up against a tree, pressing her until she could barely breathe.

She felt the pressure of the tree on her chest and his hand on her back. She felt the bark against her face, scratching. She was helpless. What was he going to do now? Was there any way out? Maybe he was going to suffocate her or beat her mercilessly. Then he leaned close and whispered to her, "Make a mistake like that again, and I _will _do just that."

"Just what?" Keil choked and she felt more pressure from his hand.

"What you were thinking," he mumbled. How did he know what she was thinking? Maybe he didn't. Maybe it was just a guess. He let go of her and, without a word, mounted back on to the horse, and she followed, relieved, and mounted behind him without hesitation. From now on, she would be good, she told herself. She promised.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Why Phoebit? _Why _Phoebit? Why did he have to go to Phoebit? It wasn't that great a place anyway. It surely wasn't as great as Lokkent. But he couldn't go there. There were only two princes; no such princess. It was even smaller than Endelia. But, his father had ordered it, and whatever his father ordered, it must be so. He threw himself on his bed. Nothing could possibly be worse than this. The stress of marrying was now stronger than ever. He surely was not in the mood to do any major traveling.

His father was now writing a decree that any respectable young lady could come to the palace now, just for the sake of visiting the prince. Jerrold supposed that it was better than choosing a bride he didn't even know on the night of the ball. Why couldn't he get out and see the maidens for his own? Why did they have to come to him? Questions flooded his head.

He was too busy in his own sorrows and problems that he didn't notice servants running in and out, packing at least twenty bags full of who knows what: clothes, toiletries, gifts. He couldn't even guess at what else he might need. He stood up, coming face to face with a servant girl. She fell over nearly and dropped all the soap bars she had been carrying. She swept a quick curtsy. "Beg pardon, highness." She knelt and began to pick the soap bars up.

Jerrold didn't say anything. He knew the girl. Yes, he knew her. Not very well, but he knew her. Of course, he could've known her quite well indeed, but not by his parents standards. Her name was Faye.

Her brown hair fell over her face messily, even though it was tied up with a black ribbon, but she brushed it aside. The tips of her hair were quite blonde, considering she had been blonde when she was young. Her light brown eyes kept glancing up at him, wondering why he was standing over her. Those eyes were like his; same color, same shade, same expression. He nervously shuffled his feet, watching her as she scooped up her load and began to walk away, her tidy black dress slightly tripping her.

Jerrold watched her leave and sat down on his bed again. Watching her made him almost feel guilt. Looking at her made him almost feel angst. The girl came in again and began to load up on more soap bars, dropping one or two on the way. Jerrold made his way over and picked them up.

The girl walked into the room again to fetch more soap bars, but seeing the prince holding a few, she thanked him kindly and began to fetch more.

"Faye!" he stopped her. She started and turned around.

"Yes, highness?" she curtsied. How did he know her name? Looks of confusion and surprise were across her whole face.

"Could you walk with me? To the garden?" He walked closer to her and took the soap bars out of her arms. They were quite heavy altogether, and she was tired from running loads and loads of them back and forth. Other servants sped past them, hauling their own loads, but Jerrold was watching Faye. He didn't care about the others.

Faye smiled and curtsied again, bowing her head. "Would you like me to walk with you?"

Jerrold nodded solemnly.

"Perhaps I shall," she said quietly. She didn't know the prince's limits. Was she supposed to maintain a suitable distance from him during the walk? Was she supposed to serve him as they walked? But his gentle face made her want to be with him all the same. She felt as if this man couldn't possibly harm her even if she did something disrespectful.

"Good. Come with me." Jerrold gripped her hand and took her out of the chambers and led her down the stairs and through all the corridors. If his parents should spot him with her, he would be slaughtered, so he ran faster, almost dragging Faye along with him. They ran out of the palace and he released her hand running toward the gate, Faye right on his tail. He climbed over and began to run again, but he forgot about Faye. Was she having a difficult time keeping up?

He stopped and looked back. She was still climbing over the gate. He came closer. She was giggling.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Your lunch, ladies," Terri served up porridge to the four nursemaids.

"Terri," Krista began, standing up. "Where_ is _that Jenny? I told 'er to be in 'ere fer breakfast. These are me friends," she gestured to the other nursemaids. "And she deserves to 'ave a little chat with 'em." She grinned viciously.

"I don't know. Go look for her," Terri wiped her hands on her apron and made her way out of the servants' dining room.

The room was filled with servants. The nursemaids, the laundry maids, the kitchen helps, the field workers, the stable boys and girls, the cleaners, the slaves, the butlers and maids, and the guards. They all sat at wooden tables and the place was filled with all sorts of chatter. It was certainly lively, with some of the guards jumping up on tables and dancing, and some of the field workers getting angry with each other, and all of them jumping up and down to get more food.

Jennifer watched through the crack in the door. The other three nursemaids certainly _did_ look in a far worse condition than Krista. She couldn't recall their names. One started with a G. Another was something like Brenda. She wondered whether Krista had beaten her in her own game or if Krista was the worst nursemaid there was.

She finally mustered up enough courage to go into the room and sit down next to the nursemaids. "Ah, Jenny!" Krista stood up and smiled at her. "Glad you could make it! Please make yerself comfeh!" She pushed Jennifer's chair in then sat down herself. "These are me friends." She pointed to one with extremely short white hair and a wrinkle-covered body. "Yvonne." She pointed to one with gray hair that looked like it reached her toes and more fat than Terri and Krista had put together. "Bronwyn." She pointed to the last one which had white hair, like Yvonne's, which stretched just down to her waist, and blue eyes which smiled, but thick eyebrows which frowned. "Goldie."

Krista stood up. "I'll leave ya fer to be getting' acquainted whilst I check in on Terri." She walked toward the kitchen, chuckling to herself. Jennifer knew that this was not good. She flicked her auburn hair behind her back and tried to put on a cool air.

"So, ladies," Jennifer smiled. "How are you?"

"Good," Bronwyn answered up for them all in a low, grumpy voice. "Even though I probably have the worst job of all."

"Oh?" Jennifer questioned. "Who do you nurse?"

"Gwendalyn."

Jennifer nodded her sympathy. "Yes, I should agree. What does she do?" Jennifer leaned forward.

"If she catches me having a break, she'll order me to be punished. If she sees me eating anything other than leftovers and porridge, she will also have me punished," she stopped for breath. "If I don't do something right, she will punish me. If I try to scold her for doing something naughty, she will scream and Lady Brunhilde will have me punished." She stopped for another breath.

"I see. I pity you greatly," Jennifer patted her arm. "And you... Yvonne?" Yvonne stood up and jumped on the table.

"And me? And _me?_" Her voice was high-pitched and husky. "I get the 'pleasure' of nursing 'her royal highness' the 'princess' Gwenevere." She did a mock curtsy. "I have to bring food up and down to her day and night non stop." She gestured by running up and down the tables, much to the servants complaints. "And then she sleeps during her free time, in which I must sew her new, larger gowns, considering she eats so much." She threw herself down on the table and pretended to sew. "If I have nothing to do, she will find me something--something like picking out her teeth or massaging her feet." She held her nose as she said it. Then she jumped down from the table and placed herself back in her seat.

_She has a lot of energy for such a little old woman, _Jennifer thought. "I pity you also, Yvonne. Goldie? What about you?"

Goldie tugged on her long, white hair tightly. "I must serve Genevieve. I must decorate Genevieve's room. I must pamper Genevieve. I must decorate Genevieve's room. I must dress Genevieve. I must clean for Genevieve. I must decorate Genevieve's room. I don't like serving Genevieve," she finished. Jennifer nodded.

"Do you not like decorating Genevieve's room?"

"I do not like pink."

Jennifer nodded. It was hard to tell whether Goldie was sad or happy. Her eyes looked happy throughout the whole time, but she had such thick, bushy eyebrows that curved downward, making her look angry. "I pity you women greatly. Perhaps you can be relieved of your duties someday?"

They all shook their heads. "Not until the 'princesses' get married to their 'prince'," Yvonne told her, batting her eyelashes mockingly.

_I win,_ Jennifer thought, grinning to herself. Krista had lost.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

.Keil didn't dare move and perhaps offend Dimitri somehow. Her sewing would have to wait. She had a new way of passing time now: wondering if Dimitri was angry or not. He seemed so joking only a few nights before. Suddenly he was a wicked slave-driver.

"I think we're going in circles," Dimitri muttered, calmly now, after a long while. He had cooled down slowly. Keil didn't dare say a thing. "Tell me if you recognize anything." She couldn't have recognized something if she had been staring at it for twenty-four hours.

They went for some time more. She looked around but couldn't see anything. The forest was so thick and vast. She hadn't anticipated this when she decided to travel to Klorith. Dimitri suddenly stopped. "Luncheon," he announced. Keil was more than relieved. He pulled out some carrots from Keil's sack in the saddlebag. Keil objected strongly to them not being cooked and from him reaching into her sack, but didn't say anything, only took the two carrots offered her and nibbled quietly, though still crunching quite loudly.

Keil was thinking hard. If she could recognize someplace in this vast forest, she could most hopefully please him. He would be proud of her and hopefully not punish her so severely. But she couldn't tell one tree from another. They all looked scary still, though not as scary as when she had set out the day before. But still, she felt more comfort looking down at her lap. She finished the carrots and was wondering what to do with their tops when Dimitri threw his away. She did the same.

"Mr. Willy and his spouse had a spat

You'd have never seen a thing like that.

She spat on him, he swung her round,

She scratched his face, he fell to the ground.

What a pitiful sight to see as that,

Between Mr. Willy and his household cat."

Dimitri broke the silence with a song. Keil stared at him in disbelief and then began to giggle. Dimitri smiled. "Where'd you learn that one?" Keil finally asked.

"An old friend," Dimitri straightened up and they continued on, Keil whispering the song over and over to herself.

The time passed quickly. Keil had finally deemed it safe to pull out her sewing again and that passed time even quicker, and it mended her dress. Not so much as a single hole or gash was left when it was almost time for dinner. She neatly folded extra pieces of old cloth and thread in her box, placing it in the saddlebag, and waited for Dimitri to announce it. But what he announced next she was not prepared for.

"Hold on! Wild centaur!" Dimitri had spotted one creeping up on them from the bushes and spurred the horse to a gallop. The centaur jumped out from hiding and began to pursue them. Keil felt panic flood through her as she gripped Dimitri's waist tightly. "You have a bow," he announced breathlessly. "And arrows. You any good with them?"

Keil didn't have time to answer before he continued. "When I say, jump off the horse, into a tree, and shoot him. You have one shot. We'll be long gone if you miss." Keil didn't really understand what he meant but she prepared herself to jump. The horse was speeding along at quite a speed that she felt nauseated. Dimitri slowed it down for a second to let Keil jump into an overhanging tree before he took off again.

Centaurs are quite faster than horses. So the young colt was catching up quite easily. He was just on Rhonda's tail when Keil pulled out her prized bow, a wooden arrow, and aimed. Her father had taught her quite well how to use a bow and she had practiced from then in her free time. Now it was time to prove her skills. She released the string and then all was silent.

Keil slowly climbed down from the tree. What could have happened? Perhaps the centaur caught him and killed him. If she went ahead, he could kill her too. She cowered behind the tree and sat there, waiting. Fear and suspense filled her up. She didn't dare let the first tear fall for fear that they won't stop raining down. She couldn't turn around. She couldn't move. Had she failed or had she succeeded? She couldn't turn around. Her head rest against the trunk of the tree, and her eyes closed. She hadn't gotten over the shock yet, so she lay on top of the dried leaves and grass, wondering what to do next. Everything was motionless and silent.

Then she heard heavy trots. Like a horse or a centaur. She couldn't tell which. They became louder and louder until they stopped, right on the other side of the tree. Her teeth chattered and her heart pounded. She lifted her bow up, which she had been clutching with white fists, and an extra arrow. She gathered herself enough to whirl around the tree and point the arrow at the creature, whether Rhonda or the centaur.

It was Rhonda and Dimitri. She relaxed and put the bow back on her back underneath her cloak. But Dimitri had some blood on him. It stained a part of his shirt, but his breeches were spotless. "What happened?" Keil choked.

Dimitri slid off of Rhonda. "You tell me. I was galloping when I felt a pain in my arm." He showed her a small gash in his upper arm. "Your arrow nicked me."

"You mean I missed?" Keil felt suddenly very disappointed.

"Not exactly. The arrow struck him as well. It paralyzed him for a little while. That was all I needed to jump off, pull the arrow out and stab him again. And again. And again."

Keil smiled. "So I only half-missed?" Dimitri nodded. Keil's fingers gingerly ran over his small wound. "Let's get that patched up." She began to rummage through the saddlebags.

"Keil, look!" Dimitri found a torn part of her dress stuck in some brambles. Keil looked down at a large hole she had patched up earlier that the piece fitted exactly.

"That was from yesterday!" she announced proudly.

"Then we can just continue heading north-west from here." Keil beamed. They weren't lost anymore! And all it took was an angry centaur colt in pursuit to help them find their way!


	10. Author's Note

Author's Note

Ahem... well, I've been thinking and reading my story. And I was kinda sorta wondering what you people think so far and what I should change. First of all, the Spanish thing. I'm now not thinking it's such a good idea. Do you think I should make up a language or just let her speak English? I would like to know your opinion. Thanks. 

Secondly, she is such a Mary Sue in the beginning that I'm thinking I should just rewrite the whole thing, sticking to the basic plot, of course. Tell me what you think.

Pretty pretty please?

That's about all.


	11. Final Decision

Final Decision

I have decided that I AM going to scrap this whole thing (not until everyone has read this) and start it again, making up my own language (Let's see how good I am at it) and making my character a non-Mary Sue.

Extras may include Dimitri's personality, which is on a roller coaster the whole time. Even unbelievable reactions/reasons/etc will be changed.

If you think there is anything else that needs to be changed, please inform me of it. It would be greatly appreciated.

PS. I need a review from all of my active readers before I can proceed.


	12. New Story

The new story has been posted up. It's on my new account, Israeli-Izzy. I would greatly appreciate it if all of my faithful reviewers from this account would review my new story. It's had heaps of improvements and a few small changes. Such as—new characters, better developed characters, better developed plot, etc.

So, if any of you would like to read/review it, please look up:

Israeli-Izzy

or

Elvish Song of Romance

Thanks, everybody!

Luv, Izzy


End file.
